Full text of "Stories of the occult"

See other formats

Google

This is a digital copy of a book that was preserved for generations on Hbrary shelves before it was carefully scanned by Google as part of a project

to make the world's books discoverable online.

It has survived long enough for the copyright to expire and the book to enter the public domain. A public domain book is one that was never subject

to copyright or whose legal copyright term has expired. Whether a book is in the public domain may vary country to country. Public domain books

are our gateways to the past, representing a wealth of history, culture and knowledge that's often difficult to discover.

Marks, notations and other maiginalia present in the original volume will appear in this file - a reminder of this book's long journey from the

publisher to a library and finally to you.

Usage guidelines

Google is proud to partner with libraries to digitize public domain materials and make them widely accessible. Public domain books belong to the
public and we are merely their custodians. Nevertheless, this work is expensive, so in order to keep providing this resource, we liave taken steps to
prevent abuse by commercial parties, including placing technical restrictions on automated querying.
We also ask that you:

+ Make non-commercial use of the files We designed Google Book Search for use by individuals, and we request that you use these files for
personal, non-commercial purposes.

+ Refrain fivm automated querying Do not send automated queries of any sort to Google's system: If you are conducting research on machine
translation, optical character recognition or other areas where access to a large amount of text is helpful, please contact us. We encourage the
use of public domain materials for these purposes and may be able to help.

+ Maintain attributionTht GoogXt "watermark" you see on each file is essential for informing people about this project and helping them find
additional materials through Google Book Search. Please do not remove it.

+ Keep it legal Whatever your use, remember that you are responsible for ensuring that what you are doing is legal. Do not assume that just
because we believe a book is in the public domain for users in the United States, that the work is also in the public domain for users in other
countries. Whether a book is still in copyright varies from country to country, and we can't offer guidance on whether any specific use of
any specific book is allowed. Please do not assume that a book's appearance in Google Book Search means it can be used in any manner
anywhere in the world. Copyright infringement liabili^ can be quite severe.

About Google Book Search

Google's mission is to organize the world's information and to make it universally accessible and useful. Google Book Search helps readers
discover the world's books while helping authors and publishers reach new audiences. You can search through the full text of this book on the web

at |http : //books . google . com/|

..-'••N

*» -

</Mii v>- IT

STORIES OF THE
OCCULT

DAN ATSTITZER

BOSTON: RICHARD G. BADGER

TOBONTO: THB COPP CliAKK CO., LIBOTBD

c 1911

r THE IsEW YGI;K

PUBLIC LIBRARY

ASTOR LENOX AND
TILDEN FOUNDATIONS

R 1918 L

• • »

• > •

■ • • • • » •
• • • •

• . • . •

MADB IN THB UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

Thb Gorham Frb88« Boston, U. S. A.

CONTENTS

Dual Personality 7

The Occult Hand 171

The Resurrection 205

fvi

STORIES OF THE OCCULT

STORIES OF THE
OCCULT

DUAL PERSONALTY
CHAPTER I

iiXXT'HERE am I?"

"Did you speak?" she asked as she turned
and found me looking at her.

"Yes, where am I ?" I repeated faintly.

These were the first words I had ever spoken, ac-
cording to my recollection at that time.

"You are in a hospital," she answered kindly. "You've
been very sick for the last three weeks. You must keep
quiet and not try to talk," she cautioned me as I made
an eflort to continue. "Come, take this, it will give
you strength."

She gave me my medicine. Hearing footsteps at the
door she tiptoed over and faced the doctor. Putting
up a warning finger, she whispered :

"Our patient is awake. He asked me where he
was."

The doctor came up to me and felt my pulse, watch-
ing my features closely, meanwhile.

"What was his temperature?" he asked the nurse.

"Ninety-nine this morning, quarter after six."

"The fever is broken," the doctor replied in answer
to a question by the nurse. "The danger is not by any
means over yet, so watch him carefully and report to me
the least sign for the worse. I think with careful nurs-

8 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

ing he'll come all right."

From this time on I gradually improved in strength,
although I was several times on the point of relapse. In
two weeks* time I was able to sit up and take little
walks.

A few days after those few words addressed to the
nurse on my return to consciousness, I was startled on
my inability to answer a question which I addressed to
myself :

"Who and what am I? Whence do I come?"

To say that I was startled, is putting it mildly.
Think as I would — and I racked my brains for an
answer — I could no more remember anything concern-
ing my past history than the new-born child. Time
and again I was asked my name, who my friends,
where my home. Sometimes these questions were
sprung unaware, when I was least on my guard. To
all of which I gave one invariable answer:

"I do not remember."

At first they thought I was trying to hide my iden-
tity, but after numerous repeated efforts on their part
— efforts which finally irritated me — they felt certain
that such was not the fact, and that I was one of those
strange cases of "Multiple, or Dual Personalities"
which are such a puzzle to both. Psychologists and the
Medical profession.

"What do you make of him?" the nurse asked the
doctor one day.

"Frankly, I do not know," he answered, stroking
his beard thoughtfully, as though trying to find a solu-
tion to the riddle in his hirsute appendage. "He may
come all right, he may not. The fever and that severe
bruise on the head have no doubt left their influence.
We must wait until he gets stronger."

As I improved in strength, so my spirits improved.
Once in a while I became subject to melancholy spells

DUAL PERSONALITY 9

during which times I became moody and silent. These
spells were usually of short duration. Time and again
I asked myself the question:

"Who am I and whence do I come?"

The nurse and I had many pleasant conversations.
To me they were a delightful pastime; to her they
were a means of sounding me.

We discussed numerous topics; history, geography,
literature, my past occupation. All these things I re-
membered, but how I acquired this knowledge I could
not recollect.

"It is so strange," she said one day, "that you re-
member all these things and yet do not recollect how or
where you acquired them."

I assured her I would only be too happy to be able
to answer the question as to my identiy, and that I
would make a bee line for home the moment I was dis-
charged from the hospital.

Came a time when I was almost fit to be discharged.
The doctor thought in a week or ten da5rs Fd be able
to take care of myself. Before discharging me they de-
cided to call in Doctor Quackenboss, a noted hypnotist
and specialist in nervous and mental diseases, with the
intention of placing me under hypnotic influence — that
is, experimenting on my subjective mind, whatever that
was, so far as I understood its meaning at that time.
I have since discovered what he meant by the "Sub-
jective Mind," as I will relate to you in unfolding my
history. I understand the workings of my mind thor-
oughly, both objectively and subjectively; better than
any psychologist, both of the old school or the new,
can tell me.

Three times this noted professor in occultism had me
soundly asleep and completely under his influence. So
the nurse informed me, and I believed she was right,
as I remembered nothing on waking. But it would not

CHAPTER II

/^ NE week after this conversation with the nurse,
^^^ I was discharged. I left the hospital with my
grip under my arm and a few odd pennies in my pocket
— a stranger in a strange land without a name, home
or friend. I felt a little crestfallen as I walked along
the city's streets, every now and then casting a sheep-
ish glance around. I imagined everyone was watching
me and I began to feel as though I had just escaped
out of my neighbor's back-yard. In fact, if .anyone
would have accused me, I would have pleaded guilty
to almost any charge.

After passing through the suburbs I reached the open
country where my spirits soon underwent a complete
transformation, due to the purer air and the more ex-
tensive view.

It was in the fall of the year and the fields were be-
ginning to look brown and sere. Here and there I no-
ticed the farmers husking their corn. Every now and
then a sparrow's chirp greeted my ear as it flitted from
post to post along the fence, or a chipmonk hurrying
under cover. I was becoming foot-sore and weary,
not being used to such exercise.

Coming up to a half-decayed log lying by the road-
side, I sat down on it to rest and also to ponder over
my unique situation. I reached into my pocket and
drew out my jack-knife and the few pennies. The
former I studied closely in the hope of finding some clue
to my identity. It was stamped "Made in Germany."
This simple message unfolded nothing to my inquisitive
eyes.

"Let's look at the pennies," I said, holding one up
between the forefinger and thumb, — -'iSSs.' "Let's

DUAL PERSONALITY 13

look at the other side. Here's old Powhattan in paint
and feathers, decked out for a scalping scrimmage. All
very enlightening to me. I wonder where I got hold
of this immense fortune, anyway," I soliloquized, jug-
gling the pennies in my hand. "Heavens! Why I am
worse off than *The Man Without a Country.' He
had at least a name. Well, I suppose it is no use wor-
rying, it may all be for the best. My life may have
been so miserable and rotten, so good-for-nothing that
it is better to forget it. I'll just let fate or provi-
dence — "

"Hello stranger. Whither bound?"

I had been so preoccupied in my soliloquy that I had
not noticed a team coming up behind me. It embar-
rassed me a little to be caught talking to myself. The
words were spoken by an old man with a weai&ened,
wrinkly, little face, to which was attached a thin, gray
beard, bearing the appearance as though each separate
hair was striving for supremacy on such meager soil.
His two, little, black eyes, beaming with good nature,
looked not unlike two beads of coal stuck into his
head that might at any moment drop out of sight into
the innermost recesses of his soul. They seemed to play
a hide-and-seek game, bobbing up every once in a while
like a "Punch and Judy" trying to say:

"Ah ha! I caught you at it, did I?"

In fact, his whole face beamed with good nature and
whole-souled confidence.

"I do not know," I answered in response to his ques-
tion. "All roads look alike to me at present, and so far
as my present destination is concerned, they all appear
to lead to Rome, as the old saying is. It makes little
difference to me what direction I take, one way seems
about as wide as the other is long."

"I was just thinking, stranger, if you'd go my way,
you'd be welcome to drive along. I had occasion to

14 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

go to town to get twine to tie up the comfodder, and
am now on my way home."

"How far do you have to go, Mr. Farmer?"

"Well, I should say about six good miles."

"That makes about seven or eight at least," I an-
swered laconically.

"I'll accept your invitation, mister, thank you," I
answered, after casting a casual glance at the declin-
ing sun.

"Looking for work?" the old man asked me after we
had proceeded on our way for sometime.

"Why yes, I suppose I will have to do something."

"Can you do farm work; ever work on a farm?"

"Yes, I used to work on a farm, although I don't
know where."

The last words escaped me before I was aware of
what I was saying.

"You don't know where?" the old man asked in sur-
prise. "How is that?" looking at me sharply, his small
black eyes again assuming that hide-and-seek expres-
sion, as though they were trying to say:

"Look what we have found."

I, who had intended not to say much about m3^f
until I had invented some plausible tale, being thus
caught unawares by my own indiscretion, thought I
might as well explain and solve the old man's doubts.

"If you will give me your ear for a few moments, I'll
try to explain what seems so strange to you. Sometime
ago I got mixed up in a railway wreck, unintention-
ally, and got pretty well battered ujp. I've just escaped
out of the hospital, where they kept me a prisoner for
two months. I had a severe case of brain fever which
left my mind a little *Non compos mentis.' Who I
am, or where I come from, the Lord knows, I don't.
I don't even know my own name. When I say I can
do farm work, I mean, I know how it is done, although

DUAL PERSONALITY 15

I can't remember where I got the experience."

"Well, well, that's strange! And not even a name!
Lost it in some old box car. Do you think it got
smashed up, too, like yourself? I mean the name."

"I don't know," I answered with a smile, beginning
to have toy doubts about the old man's sanity, even.
"You haven't found another one yet, have you?"
"Not yet. I expect to find one somewhere before
long, though. I'll pick up the first one I find going
astray," I answered, treating the subject as a huge
joke.

The old man pondered in silence for sometime. Fin-
ally he looked up with a radiant expression on his face.
"Say, how would you like Lost Name, stranger?"
"That's it, Mr. Farmer; that covers my case ex-
actly. You're all right. I never would have thought of
such a name. However, I'll cut the "T" out and nick-
name myself *Los.' Say Mr. Farmer, I'll have that
name branded on my back, so in case I should lose that
too, I'll know where to find myself."

"Yes, or have it carved out with a pen-knife," sug-
gested the farmer, whereupon we both laughed loud
and long. "Well, Mr. Los, — sounds queer, don't it?
I can give you a job if you want to work for me, all
winter. Mirandy, — that's my wife's name, — she and
I are all alone, and it's most too much for us, beings
we are both getting old. She'll be tickled to death
when she finds out I have brought some help with me."
I, who will pass under the name of Los from now on,
greatly delighted at this new proposition, accepted this
offer, and I struck a bargain with the old farmer then
and there. We soon arrived at the farmer's home
which was pleasantly situated in a narrow valley be-
tween two mountains. Everything looked neat and
clean, and homelike around the buildings, which were
nearly new^ and up-to-date. I got busy at once, as-

i6 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

sisting the old man in putting away the horse and doing
the chores.

All that winter I stayed with these simple but kind
old folks, who treated me as though I was their own
son. During the short winter days, after all outside
work was done, I used to shoulder the farmer's old,
muzzle-loading gun, taking long trips over the moun-
tains in search of game. The evenings I employed in
reading and studying.

The old farmer was an extensive reader himself and
possessed a modest library of several hundred volumes,
all well thumbed and earmarked.

One evening I was sitting in the dining-room labori-
ously studying a map of Pennsylvania in the vain hope
of finding the name of some place or location that
might vaguely suggest to my mind — subconsciously — a
clue to my past, when the old farmer, whose name was
Kantner, came into the room and laid a book on the
table before me.

"Read that, Los. That may tell you some valuable
hints about yourself that you don't know."

I read the title aloud : "The Subjective Mind."

"The Subjective Mind," I repeated. That is what
the professor experimented on in the hospital: — My
Subjective Mind. What is it?" I asked Kantner.

He explained to me.

"You know Los, Man is endowed with two minds —
'The Objective Mind' and the 'Subjective Mind.' "

"I know nothing of the kind," I answered.

"The Objective mind," he continued without tak-
ing cognizance of my hasty reply, "is that which is ac-
tive during consciousness. Its media of knowledge are
the five senses. Its highest function is reasoning, both
inductively and deductively.

"The 'Subjective Mind' is that which manifests itself
during sleep, as in dreams, somnambulism, or occasion-

DUAL PERSONALITY 17

ally during our waking moments when the 'Objective
Mind' is in a negative state. It is the seat of instinct
in animals, and of intuition in Man. It is the seat of
the emotions. It is a perfect storehouse of memory,
and right here is where the chief importance comes in
concerning your case. It has kept a perfect record of
every act, word or thought of your former self, and
who knows it may some day in the future reveal to you
or someone else the history of your former self. It may
give it to you through a dream, or it may give it to
someone else, through your own mouth, in a trance
condition. There are numerous ways in which it has
the power to manifest." ^

These and many more things he told me concerning
the "Subjective Mind" all of which were verified to me
later on.

"Is this what you are telling me, theory or facts?"
I asked, my mind beset with doubts.

"They are facts, my friend, and have been proven
by scientists."

The old man spoke so sincerely, all doubt was re-
moved from my mind. I cannot describe to you with
what avidity I took up that book and perused its con-
tents. I read and re-read it five different times. I
knew it almost by heart. It was to me such a book of
knowledge, it gave to me such hope, such faith, that I
determined it should some day reveal to me that which
I was so anxious to know — ^my former self. It became
an obsession with me ; it was the dominant thought in
my mind on going to sleep at night and the first on
waking in the morning. It was my only wish and
prayer, and I determined to meet that prayer half way,
feeling convinced that it would be answered, as all such
prayers are answered, and the only ones that ever are
answered.

h& the winter drew on, my affection for these two,

1 8 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

kindly, old people increased, yet I often felt lonesome.
I longed for excitement. I felt as though I wanted to
be where there was danger, where I could battle with
the elements, and nature. As spring drew near, this
desire increased so, I could hardly resist its influence.
I began to chafe like a horse at the bit. "The Call
of The Wild" was urging me and I had to respond.

"This life is too dry and tame for me. FU get musty
and stagnant, confined between these mountains," I
used to say to myself.

So one early morning in spring, after the weather
had settled, I bid the old folks an affectionate fare-
well and left.

"Remember, my boy," the old man said with tears
in his twinkling eyes as he shook my hand in parting,
"if you ever feel lonesome again, or meet with misfor-
tune, you know where to find Mirandy and I."

CHAPTER III

TT was early in fall, the beginning of October, al-
most a year and a half since I had left those honest
old people back in central Pennsylvania. How bitterly
I had regretted leaving their hospitable roof. Fain
would I have gone back under it again, satisfied to
spend the remaining days of my life with them. But
diat was impossible. I was unequal to the task. I
had gone too far to retreat. To go back through the
hardships I had come, meant certain death in my
weakened condition. The future that lay before me in
my wanderings was a sealed book to me, and for that
reason gave me hope.

I had been working at odd jobs and tramping alter-
nately ever since I had left them.

By some impulse within me, that kept me going on-
ward and still onward, like the "Wandering Jew" with-
out peace or rest, I had wandered across the wide, exten-
sive plains of the Mississippi Valley, I had crossed the
Great Divide, I had swam and waded rivers up to my
neck, I had crossed the arid plains, and the alkali desert
plateaus of the "Great Basin;" I had suffered the
agony of thirst and starvation, with the blazing, scorch-
ing rays of the sun beating down upon my head, the
hot, scalding sand of the desert blistering my feet in
day time, the moon and the stars keeping me company
at night.

I had been deluded by that enchanting illusion, the
Mirage, beckoning me onward and onward in a vain
attempt to satisfy my raging thirst with its cool, crystal
water, receding, beckoning me and still receding as I
advanced.

20 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

I had no one to commune with but my own inner
self and the Great God above. Often times at night
I was startled out of my sleep by the howl of the wol-
verine and the coyote.

If ever a man's soul was purged by going through a
living purgatory and great tribulation, it was mine.

One night I came to a low range of mountains,
thoroughly exhausted, bodily and mentally. I had
traveled all that day and the previous night and part
of the preceding day without a drop to drink or a
morsel to eat. There had been a steady, dry wind
blowing from the west. The alkali dust had entered
my nose and mouth. My lips were cracked, my tongue
was swollen and my nose and throat felt raw. I must
have traveled sixty or seventy miles without pause or
rest, the uneven tops of the mountains boldly outlined
against the sky, drawing me onward. Will power I
had none, it was more by intuition — an automatic im-
pulse — that I kept on, in the hope of discovering water
to cool my tongue and throat.

I reached the mountains and climbed part way to-
ward the top. I could go no further. All ambition,
all volition of movement was gone. I threw myself
under a cluster of stunted pine trees, resolved to die.
For a while I lay there oblivious to everything. Vague-
ly, as in a dream, I remember watching the stars and
the moon overhead. Gradually, my fevered brain
began to conjure up all kinds of imaginations and hal-
lucinations, gradually drifting toward the state of my
own self — the fate of my soul. I had resolved to die
here in the sweet cool of the night. The tortures I had
passed through prompted me to do so and end all.

"What would become of my soul?" My life had
been passed under two distinct personalities. Of the
former I remembered nothing. Under the latter, what-
ever mistakes I might have committed meriting die

DUAL PERSONALITY 21

judgment of God, I thought I had fully expiated by
my present suffering. The mistakes of my former, for-
gotten life, would they also be forgiven and forgotten
along with it?

Would I enter the great unknown as two distinct
individualities, two souls, each meriting the approba-
tion or disapprobation according to the life I had led
here upon earth under each personality? I could not
fathom it. My reasonings had unconsciously drawn
me on deeper and deeper into the intricacies of the sub-
ject until I knew not which way to turn for a deci-
sion. I resolved to throw myself upon the mercy of
the Almighty, trusting in His goodness to make every-
thing right according to His wisdom.

My agitated mind became calm once more. Out of
my objective state I gradually passed into a negative
one, into that twilight zone, half conscious, half un-
conscious. Then I saw. I saw with my spiritual eyes
that which was in after years proven to me as the truth.
I saw in a little room, before a wooden bed a woman
kneeling in prayer, her arms outstretched in supplica-
tion. Before her, in the bed, covered up, was a little
child asleep. I distinctly saw its face, the curls of her
dark hair lying in clusters over her neck and ears. And
I heard the name of "Jim, Jim," plainly and distinctly.

These words, sounding on my clair-audient ear
brought me back to consciousness. My objective mind
became active, and all vanished. It had dl come and
faded in the twinkling of an eye.

What it represented or who was meant by the name
"Jim" was not revealed to me at that time. But it
gave me a certain sense of pleasure in that I had seen
and heard clairvoyantly and clairaudiently. It was one
of the manifestations of the Subjective Mind, as I had
read in that book given to me by the old farmer in
Pennsylvania*

22 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

I finally fell into a restless feverish sleep. I was sur-
prised the next morning on finding mjrself still alive.
The cool nig^t had partly refreshed me, although I was
burning inwardly. I struggled to my feet and stag-
gered on along the side of the mountain like a man in a
dream. I was going mad. I had barely advanced
fifty feet when I scared a rabbit out of his nest. I had
my gun in my hand and instinctively fired at him with-
out taking aim. I accidentally hit him — ^wounded him.
With a wild, gleeful cry I pounced upon him. Fever-
ishly, I ripped the skin off his body and greedily, wolf-
ishly, I buried my teeth into his still quivering flesh
and gulped down mouthful after mouthful. After I
had gorged myself I looked about me, hope once more
rising in my heart. I soon began to feel a little
stronger and proceeded slowly diagonally up the moun-
tain. I had proceeded fifteen or twenty minutes, when,
there, a short distance before me I saw a sight that gave
me such delight that I cried for very excess of joy. In-
stantly I remembered the illusion on the desert — ^the
tantalizing mirage. I stood still and watched the sight
for sometime. Then I slowly advanced. It was no
deception. It did not flee as I approached. It was
real water, cool, refreshing water, dripping out through
a small crag in the rocks. How my parched, swollen
tongue licked that water as it came drip, drip, dripping
slowly, but so steadily and so unfailingly.

Long I sat there on my knees catching every drop as
it percolated through the crag. At last my diirst was
partly satiated,' — only partly, — but enough to alleviate
that burning thirst I formerly experienced.

I unslung my empty canteen and fixed it under the
wall so as to catch every precious drop, and then I
laid down under a pine tree and rested my weary limbs
and bruised feet. I decided to stay until I had again
recovered my strength, refreshed my body and filled my

DUAL PERSONALITY 23

canteen.

All that day and night I stayed. Toward evening I
shot another rabbit and partly ate his raw flesh. Matches
I had none to build a fire with, having used my last one
long previously. I did not miss them, the raw flesh
tasted sweet to my palate.

CHAPTER IV

T WAS standing on the precipice of a wall rising per-

pendicular twenty-five or thirty feet, my red, flannel
shirt and corduroy trousers in tatters; my felt hat
having half of its brim torn away, and the soles of my
shoes worn down to the uppers. My belt, containing
my cartridges and gun hung loosely around my waist.
I was reduced to a skeleton.

I was standing behind some bushes, peering between
the branches over this precipice, down the side of the
mountain, in a half dreamy, half conscious state, watch-
ing a little rivulet as it meandered its way through the
gulch at its foot. I moved slightly and instantly felt
a sharp pain in my right side. I faintly heard the crack
of a rifle as I became faint, everything turning black
before my eyes.

The next thing I knew on opening my eyes, I was
lying on my back at the foot of the precipice, looking
into the alarmed features of a young man who was
bending over me.

"Thank the Lord! the blinking of your eyes, pard,
has given me an awful relief. I was afraid I had sent
you across to the great beyond, in mistake."

"Water," I gasped.

He unscrewed the top of a flask, enclosed in leather,
hanging by his side, and applied it to my parched and
cracked lips. I clasped it tightly within my thin, bony
fingers and greedily gulped down its refreshing con-
tents. How sweet it tasted !

He drew it away, I holding on in desperation.

"That is enough for the present," he said. "You
shall have all you want by and by. Let me examine

34 '

DUAL PERSONALITY 25

your hurt."

I feebly placed my hand over my side where his bul-
let had struck me. A small stream of blood was trick-
ling down my side as he removed the shirt. He ex-
amined it very carefully.

"I do not think it is dangerous," he said. The bul-
let struck a rib and glanced."

He ofiFered me another drink and then said :

"I will run down to the camp for assistance to carry
you back. Uncle will examine you. He knows more
about such matters than I do."

I was too weak at the time, mentally and physically,
to realize what this accident meant to me.

The Kid, as he was called, and as he afterward told
me, had been taunted by his uncle on his bravery. De-
termined to refute his uncle's jeers by actual demon-
stration, he had set out with his rifle in quest of large
game.

After leaving the camp, the Kid walked to the upper
end of a gulch, at the lower end of which they had
pitched their tent, with the intention of getting beyond
the high cliffs that rose to the right of him, so as to
allow him to ascend the mountain. He had been gone
over an hour, and had worked his way well up along
the side of the mountain through the rocks and stunted
trees, when he came to a large, flat rock on which he
had laid down to rest and bask in the sun. His further
progress up the mountain was blocked by a huge wall
of solid rock. Here, basking in the sun, he fell into
a doze out of which he was rudely awakened by a stone
hitting him in the small of his back. All was quiet —
not a sign of life. Vainly he tried to discover the
cause of the incident. Once he thought he heard a
faint cry ; but no he must have been mistaken. He had
almost forgotten the incident and was about to return
to camp, decided to retrieve his reputation for bravery

26 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

later on, when happening to gaze up, he noticed some-
thing moving amongst the boulders and bushes. With-
out any hesitation or consideration as to what it might
be, he hastily raised his rifle and fired.

And thus, by this God-sent accident — sl blessing in
disguise — I happened to find myself amongst friends, at
the expense of a slight bullet wound to myself.

The Kid immediately started to run down the moun-
tain in quest of help. In a half-dazed sort of way I
watched him as he zigzagged his way, jumping and
dodging to the right and left as he avoided the rocks
and trees that beset his path. Once I saw him sprawl
headlong in his flight, his rifle being jerked out of his
hand, and thrown far ahead of him. He hastily picked
himself up and proceeded.

He had gone probably a half hour, when he returned
with a companion, a young man slightly shorter but
more stoutly built. I heard the Kid call him Bust.

"How are you going to take him?" I heard Bust
ask the Kid as they neared me.

"Give me your knife and FU soon show you, I lost
mine when I fell in running down the mountain."

In about five minutes the Kid returned with a stout
stick about four feet long.

By seating me on the stick between them, each tak-
ing a firm hold on the end with one hand while with the
inside arm supporting me they carried me safely down
the mountain, after which they gently placed me on
the ground and took a rest, in the meantime bathing my
wound which had started to bleed afresh, caused by the
jolts in carrying me. After being thoroughly rested,
they proceeded to camp with me, where we found the
Kid's uncle busily preparing supper.

The sweet, savory smell of the frying bacon greeted
my olfactory nerves as we approached, and I began
to gloat over the prospective feast.

DUAL PERSONALITY 27

"Hello, what is this," Uncle inquired, eyeing me
curioulsy, "a funeral procession?"

"Not quite that, Uncle. Came near being one
though. He is only a little down in the mouth," an-
swered the Kid, whereupon he related the whole inci-
dent. Uncle not saying a word nor asking a question
until the Kid had finished.

"You certainly take the premium all right, you do,
for down right cussed carelessness. Whatever will be-
come of you I don't know. You'll yet wind up your
illustrious career with a hempen necktie around your
neck. Is he mortally hurt? How are you pard, is
there still enough sand in you to give an Indian
whoop ?"

Uncle had a gruff way of speaking under any circum-
stances, as I later on discovered, although he was kind
and affectionate at heart. The Kid was a little crest-
fallen on receiving this lecture from his uncle, espe-
cially as it happened before me, a stranger. As for me,
I considered myself an unwelcome guest, in doubt
whether to think good or ill of this big, raw-boned
man. The Kid, seeing the expression on my face,
came up to me and said kindly :

"Uncle wants to know how you are feeling, whether
you are strong enough to talk."

"Very weak, water please," I gasped in a whisper.

"Water you shall have," the Kid answered turning
to get some out of the brook.

"Put a little brandy in it," Uncle called after. "Let
me examine your wound stranger. I have a little ex-
perience in that line, and know somewhat about gun-
shot wounds. I have had a few myself. When you
are plugged that full that you imagine yourself a walk-
ing arsenal, with a score of redskins cavorting around
you, drawing sticks for the privilege of lifting your
top-knot, that's the time you remember you once had a

28 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

home and mamma."

While he was talking in this strain, he was all the
while deftly examining the wound. His reference to
remembering home and mother brought home to me
forcibly the recollection of my non-recollection of those
Bacred ties.

"This hole in your side stranger," he continued,
"does not amount to a shuck of peas. With proper
care and nursing I reckon, you'll be able to stampede
again in a few weeks. Kid, I reckon we'll have to put
him in your bunk, being youVe had the honor of al-
most committing the unpardonable sin. Furthermore,
the duty of nursing him back to health will devolve
upon you. You'll assume your new duties at once,
taking part in such other amusements and pleasures as
the condition of the patient will allow."

I was immediately placed in the Kid's bunk, after
which he redressed my wounds and then prepared me
something light and nourishing to eat.

I rested fairly well during the night, and by morn-
ing felt greatly improved, and with the exception of a
slight fever during the first week, continued steadily
to improve.

I now had someone to speak to. The oppressive
stillness and awful solitude of the desert, the scorching
rays of the sun, the blistering sand, the combination of
all these nearly driving me mad — all these were things
of the past. I felt as though they had been a year
ago. The Kid, guided by his Uncle's instructions —
Uncle himself acting as physician and surgeon-r-per-
formed his duties well and faithfully, and with my ro-
bust constitution, in less than three weeks I was about
and able to help myself.

The Kid and I became fast friends, almost like two
brothers, taking numerous strolls up the brook, fishing
for trout and shooting squirrels and hare.

DUAL PERSONALITY 29

Up to this time no one had as yet broached the sub-
ject of my past history, and I had likewise refrained
from telling them. Even to the Kid, with whom I
had become very confidential, I had not as yet men-
tioned a word. I had decided to wait until I had won
their complete confidence. To be sure. Uncle was be-
coming a little dubious about me.

"I don't intend for us to harbor a horse thief amongst
us," I overheard him say to Bust and the Kid one
morning. "It's not etiquette to ask a stranger within
your gates who he is nor where he comes from, but
its nation's polite of him to tell you."

"Nation, Nation," I repeated to myself. It was the
first time he had used the by-word in my presence; in
fact it was the first time the word had ever been used
in my presence during my present identity. And yet,
just so surely as I was alive, somewhere, sometime in
the past I had heard that word before in the sense in
which he used it. Even the tone of the voice struck
me as distinctly familiar. However, try as I would, I
could not recollect the time nor place of its utterance.
Was it a half-conscious mental flash of that which I
had so completely forgotten? Was it one of the little
incidents packed in the storehouse of my Subjective
Mind, that had risen to the threshold of conscious mem-
ory? Who can tell? I could not at that time. All
these things and many more of a like nature were made
plain to me years afterward.

Uncle was determined, if I wouldn't speak before
long, he'd feel me, as he styled it. So one evening
after I had fully recovered and we were all seated
around the camp-fire, smoking and telling stories, the
conversation was very gently shifted unto me.

"How long is it now, stranger," up to this time I
had always been addressed as the ^stranger' or 'partner,'
"since you have had daylight put through you?" in-

30 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

quired Uncle, "begging your pardon for asking the
question."

"It will be four weeks tomorrow, Uncle," replied
the Kid.

"Time flies," remarked Uncle thoughtfully, knock-
ing the ashes out of his pipe methodically, refilling and
lighting it.

"Considering that you are pretty fairly established
on your pins again, may I ask you if you have formu-
lated any plans as to your future campaign. Bust and
the Kid and myself have been rampaging around here
all summer prospecting for gold, although with little
success so far as dividends are concerned. We have
talked it over between ourselves and we have decided
to invite you to join us permanently if you feel in-
clined that way. Of course if you feel inclined to
travel with our outfit, I presume you wouldn't mind
telling us what handle you are traveling under, so we
shall know what to call you when asking you to meals."

Having thus delivered himself, the three patiently
waited for what I had to say for myself.

"Perhaps gentlemen," I began, "after you have heard
my story you will not -"insider me such a welcome
addition to your ^outfit.' \ am no horse-thief," I ex-
plained, remembering the <vords I had overheard some-
time previously, "never even having robbed a man of a
penny to my recollection. You have all acted the good
Samaritan to me, and I am not only willing but rather
eager to give an account of myself. If you will listen,
I will briefly give you the story, so far as I know."

I proceeded to give a brief history of myself so far
as my knowledge of it went, after which I politely
thanked them for the invitation they extended, and
which I told them I would cheerfully accept if they
were still so minded.

"That is a very strange and sad story of yours, pard,

DUAL PERSONALITY 3 1

although I have heard of such cases before, where
people have lost count of certain things and recollected
others," Uncle said, continuing:

"Boys, have you ever heard of phrenologists?" Not
waiting for any of us to either affirm or deny, he
proceeded :

"A phrenologist is one who gets his knowledge free
and professes to know all about one's brains and the
shape of the head and its bumps. The phrenologist
claims the brain is divided into apartments same as a
house. Each apartment of the brain performs a certain
function independently of the others and gives individ-
uality and character to the person who so possesses them
according to the prominence of each apartment. They
say if any of those apartments gets into the way of an
irresistible force or such like, its contents are liable to
get addled, and the person forgets all about what he
had stored therein.

"I opine, stranger, the contents of some of your
apartments must have gotten mixed the time you were
waylaid in the wreck. — And now they have called
you *Lost Name,' " he continued after due reflection.
"That old farmer had a well developed sense of dry
humor, when he gave you the name."

"He had, he had the queerest, laughing, little eyes
you ever looked into; and he had a kindly disposition.
He was a man whom I would take as a model," I re-
plied.

"Boys, we have all heard his tale, and for my part,
I believe it. What say you, will we adopt him ?"

Bust and the Kid, both gave a vigorous consent, and
I stood elected a full member.

"From now on, stranger, or rather, I presume we
will call you *Los' you are at perfect liberty to make
yourself at home, same as you did before," Uncle pro-
claimed with a wide sweep of his right arm, designat-

32 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

ing everything, including the whole surrounding coun-
try, in sight.

"From now on it will be 'One for all, and all for
one' — ^hit or miss, make or break, live or die, sink or
swim, survive or perish."

"Well done. Uncle!" the Kid shouted. "Where did
you hear that?"

"Where did I hear it?" he asked, slightly exasper-
ated at the question. "That is original. I do not
have to borrow my sayings. One thing I wish to state,
Los. Profane language will not be tolerated in this
camp. The only time the Lord's name may be used
is when you speak respectfully of Him or in reading
the Bible, which book you will find in the tent at your
disposal whenever you may feel a desire to peruse its
pages.

"And now boys, if we intend to hibernate in these
diggins we'll have to build a cabin, because winter is
liable to come down upon us sudden and hard."

We began building operations the next day, the Kid
and I felling the trees and making the logs; Bust and
Uncle attending to the building part.

In about two weeks' time we were ready to occupy
our cabin, which was much more cozy and roomy than
the tent.

The Kid, Bust and I made several trips to town
about thirty miles distant, for our winter supply of
provisions — flour, sugar, salt, coffee and bacon. Our
main supply of food consisted of game, which we
supplied fresh as we needed it.

A severe winter set in, the long evenings of which we
beguiled by smoking, playing cards and relating tales
of adventure. Uncle being especially well provided with
that social commodity. Often times, when the wind
was howling down the gulch, screaming and whistling
ground our cabin, piling the snow mountain high in

DUAL PERSONALITY 33

front of our door, everything snug and safe inside — at
such times Uncle always appeared at his best, regaling
his audience with tales of the great Northwest: the
hardships he went through, the hair-breadth escapes
from wild animals; the rapids he had shot and the
mighty rivers he had « forded. All this worked won-
drously on the Kid's imagination. The more realistic
and hair-splitting the narrative, the wider he opened
his eyes and mouth in amazement, until he could con-
tain himself no longer.

"Let's all pack up and go to the Klondike," he said.

I, who was always a close second in whatever the
Kid proposed in way of adventure wasn't slow to as-
rist him in agitating the subject.

"Yes, let's go. We'll make you 'Grand High
Muck a Muck' of the outfit, Uncle," I said.

"You'd play the fiddle and we'd dance to your mu-
sic," emphasized the Kid in way of jollying Uncle.

"To the nation with you and your fiddle."

Again like a cloud passing over me, came that queer
sensation like a faint recollection of having heard that
word in the far distant, misty past. Even the man who
uttered it, ever3rtime he did so, appeared to have some
shadowy resemblance to someone whom I had known
once before. However, it was all like some hazy dream
that one tfies to piece together on awakening in the
morning. You seem to have a flash of recollection,
when, presto! all is again forgotten, and cudgel your
brains as you will, you can not remember.

However, this was not the time to dwell on the sub-
ject. I wanted to be alone where all was quiet and
where I could put myself into that negative state, that
semi-conscious zone, where I could listen to the voice
of my own soul, and only then, if at any time, I would
receive the answer to my question, and that I felt sure
would help to solve the mystery of my past.

U STORIES OF THE OCCULT

"Boys," Uncle continued, "this going to the Klondike
is not like catching minnows out of a brook. It means
lots of stamina and perseverance through all kinds of
weather and mosquitoes, with the thermometer so low
in winter, it takes a microscope to find it."

From that time on the Klondike was the principal
topic of conversation. The subject was thoroughly
discussed, pro and con, with the result that we finally
decided to go.

The Kid was in ecstasy. He fairly reveled in
imaginations of all kinds, and soon became the owner
of several big ranches, let alone the fine mansion he
would build for his mother to live in and the foreign
countries he'd travel, after coming back to civilization.

"Kid," Uncle addressed him one day after the Kid
had confided to him some of his prospective plans, "of
all the high-minded dreamers I have ever seen or heard,
you beat everything this side the borderland of nowhere.
If your sky-highing castles that youVe been building
for the last three weeks ever happen to collapse in mid-
air before we get out of here, the Lord save you and the
rest of us, should we be near enough to get caught in
the debris. The wreck Los was caught in will be a
miniature compared to the flying shingles, rafters,
splinters, chunks of marble and Texas steers that'll be
flying about us. I say Kid, never count your beebies
before they are hatched, and be mighty careful how you
handle them after you get them out of the shell."

This ridicule put a damper in the Kid's spirits for
a little time, but being of a very cheerful disposition, he
soon forgot it and began to build new ones.

Very little prospecting was done the remainder of
the winter, every hour of our time being occupied in
planning and preparing for the adventure. Uncle, by
virtue of his experience became the reference and guide

DUAL PERSONALITY 35

book for all of us. After thrashing out the virtues of
the different routes, pro and con, it was finally decided
to take the "Great Peel River Route."

CHAPTER V

/^ N a beautiful spring morning in May, wc found
^^ ourselves paddling down Athabasca River toward
the great lake bearing the same name, in a flat-bottomed
boat of our own construction, loaded with tools and pro-
visions, on our great journey to the Klondike.

"Here's where we'll roost for the night," said Uncle
as he steered the boat toward the shore, one night.

It was an ideal place for pitching a camp — right
between two big pine trees, with a hillock rising very
abruptly as a back-ground.

While the rest were busy putting up the tent and
performing other necessary duties, I shouldered my gun,
intending to take a short stroll into the forest in quest
of game. I kept on walking for sometime, buried in
my own thoughts, not paying much attention where I
was going nor how late it was getting. Suddenly a big
hare jumped up in front of me, which I as promptly
shot. Picking it up I slung it across my shoulder, and
started back to camp.

"Let me see, — which way did I come?" vainly look-
ing around for some land mark whereby I might recog-
nize my bearing.

The more I tried to locate myself the more I be-
came confused. Besides it was getting dark, which
added to my confusion. I now began to realize the
predicament I was in. To sleep in the woods, unpro-
tected, a prey to wild beasts, was out of the question;
to proceed without knowing whither I was going, was al-
most as bad. I might walk in a circle, gradually en-
larging it, thereby drawing the attention of my friends
by keeping up a continual shout. Even by doing so, I

DUAL PERSONALITY 37

ran a great risk of increasing the distance between my-
self and camp.

"I was a blamed fool for not taking note where I
was going. Serves me right. The rest will put me
down as a jackass not to be trusted out of their sight
hereafter."

My soliloquy was suddenly interrupted by a faint
and distant sound through the forest. Turning my
head to a side, my nerves on a tension, I listened in-
tently for a repetition of that sound, which I knew but
too well.

'^I must be mistaken. I must have imagined it," I
said to myself as I resumed my composure. "No, it
was no imagination," This time I heard it more dis-
tinctly, still faintly, but nearer. I now became thor-
oughly alarmed. Well might I be, the danger I had to
face was no child's play. I had often heard that sound
before — ^yes often — and never thought much of it.
Those times I was secure from attack, but here I was
out in the open, all alone, subject to attack from all
sides. Again I heard it ; this time a long, drawn howl,
answered shortly after from another direction. The
forest soon became a howling wilderness. The signal
had gone out, and it seemed that every wolf for miles
around was answering the call to close in on the prey
—-on me.

I was no coward. Although I was now thoroughly
scared, I determined to sell my life dearly. If I could
keep the pack from closing in around me I might have
a diance, slim though it was. Thus far the howls
came at right angles to the direction in which I thought
the camp lay. Taking a firm grip on my rifle and tight-
ening my belt, I started to run in which I thpught the
direction of the camp, but, unwittingly I took the wrong
direction.

"If only I had a match; my life for a match!" I

38 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

though t, as I finished going through my pockets in a
vain search for the invaluable little companion.

Nearer and still nearer the pack came. I imagined
I could see their shadows flitting in and out amongst
the trees. Presently I saw the green, glaring eyes of
a big brute in advance of all the rest which I took for
the leader. The brute saw me at the same time, set-
ting up a long, ferocious howl, at the same time making
a leap for me. Up went my rifle. The beast dropped
midway in his course, writhing with pain and baffled
rage on the ground. In a moment the rest of the pack
were up, and seeing their fallen leader out of business,
growling and tearing up the ground in impotent fury,
they set upon him, snarling and snapping at each other
like fiends, burying their fangs into him and tearing
him to pieces. I shivered when I saw this sight, con-
templating what was in store for me. Casting the hare
I had shot, amongst them, I took to my heels as fast
as I could run. For a moment I increased the distance
between myself and the pack — ^but only for a moent.
The pack was after me again in full cry. Waiting
until they were close enough, I suddenly wheeled
around and brought my rifle to my shoulder. Four
times it cracked in rapid succession, each shot bringing
down one of my foes, their comrades again tearing them
into pieces in fiendish gluttony. Again I ran and
widened the distance while they were feasting.

My magazine being now empty, I hastily refilled it
while running. Nine more bullets remained. Nine
more foes — then what? I feared to think of it. Sure-
ly something would happen in my favor. The pack see-
ing me, their chief prey, escape, set up a howl and
started after me. They were again near enough for
me to single them out in the darkness. Five times my
Winchester cracked, with a result of four more casual-
ties amongst the brutes.

DUAL PERSONALITY 39

"Once more/' I thou^t, as I started to run, and then
for the last stand.

For the first time in my extremity, I called upon God
to save me. I gave the cry of a man in distress, hem-
med in on all sides, without a vestige of hope, deter-
mined to strike one more blow before the inevitable
end. I prayed for some miracle to interpose and thus
save me from such a horrible death.

In that extreme hour of my distress I had a brief
vision of my forgotten life. It. passed before me in
panoramic view as through a crystal, in a flash. What
the vision revealed to me I could not recall afterward,
yet I am positive of having had the vision. It passed
out of my memory as it came, illusive, like that phan-
tasm of the desert — the mirage. It was a manifesta-
tion of the "Subjective Mind," that rose to the thresh-
old, usurping the throne of consciousness until death or
danger was past.

Again the pack was upon me. I flashed my eyes to
Heaven, as though looking for the miracle I had prayed
for, to descend. I faced suddenly about and sent the
four remaining bullets among the pack. My actions
had become automatic. Death, now that it appeared
inevitable, was not the horrible monster I thought it to
be. A short brief time and all would be over.

I clubbed my rifle and took a firm stand — a fusilade
of shots came from the rear of me. My prayer was
answered, not in some miraculous way, such as I had
prayed for, but hardly hoped and never expected, but
just in an ordinary, natural way as it always comes
about when least expected.

Hurriedly looking around in grateful surprise, I
saw Uncle, Bust and the Kid coming to my rescue. This
welcome sight was such a relief to my wrought-up
nerves that I nearly broke down for joy. Each one
of my friends was provided with a lighted pine torch.

40 STORIES OFTHE OCCULT

These they threw amongst the pack which scattered
them for a moment.

''Kid, you build a fire, quick, while we stand the
brutes off. It's the only way to save our skins from
these hell-hounds," declared Uncle.

The danger was not by any means over yet. Hunger
had made the brutes brave, and the slaughter amongst
them had only served to make them more ferocious. We
three put up a valiant fight while the Kid was build-
ing a fire. This was our best defense. The beasts
were too cowardly to come within that circle of light.
We kept up the fight all night long with our rifles
and by hurling fire brands amongst them. When day-
light came, they reluctantly slunk away into the forest,
after which we made our way back to camp, about a
mile and a half distant.

"How in the nation did you get caught in such a
trap, an5rway?" asked Uncle of me on our way back.
"If it had been a tenderfoot, or the Kid here for in-
stance, I wouldn't have expected an)rthing different.
But you ! — ^well I don't understand."

"I lost my bearings. That's about all the explana-
tion I can give. I had ju^t shot a hare and was ready
to start back when I lost all reckoning and presently
found myself in the hottest hole I've ever been in."

"Yes, I never saw a more ghost-like looking man in
all my life. But you've got the right kind of blood in
your veins, Los. You stood there like — ^like the 'Spirit
of Seventy-six.' "

"But how did you know I was in danger? Did you
hear them howl?"

"Yes, the Kid was the first one to prick up his ears.
Shortly after, everyone could hear 'em. It didn't take
us long to make tracks in your direction, either. In
about five minutes more you'd 'a' been across the
'Great Divide.' "

CHAPTER VI

r\AY after day, we continued our journey down
^"^ the Athabasca and Slave Rivers, skirting the lakes
of Athabasca and Great Slave, down the great Mac-
kenzie, everyone in a gala mood ; especially the Kid and
I. Bust, who seldom showed any emotion, took things
in a toatter-of-fact way. As for Uncle — ^he was too
much of an old stager; besides, he had been in this
country before and felt perfectly at home. Nothing of
importance happened to us, everything going smoothly,
as such expeditions should, but seldom do, until we had
traveled about four hundred miles down the Macken-
zie, when an accident happened to the Kid which proved
of everlasting benefit to that youngster, and also gave
Uncle an opportunity for giving him one of his, famous
lectures, as the Kid used to call them Things were
becoming monotonous to the Kid — ^the same routine
work, day after day, and he was wishing for something
"stirring to happen" as he expressed it.

"You'll get all the stirring times you're hankering
after before you'll see your mammy's apron strings
again, I opine," Uncle answered him one day.

It came about sooner than the Kid had expected and
not in a way to increase that person's appetite for
"something stirring" ^o happen. We had come to a
place where the river narrowed to about a quarter mile,
running between two steep mountains for about a mHe
in length. The river here was running deep and treach-
erous, assuming almost the rapidity of rapids, being dot-
ted with sharp and dangerous rocks projecting above its
surface, making canoeing and boating dangerous, re-
quiring a strong arm and a steady nerve. About half-

4^ STORIES OF THE OCCULT

way down this course was a long, narrow island, about
three hundred feet from the west bank. It being well
advanced toward evening when we arrived at the head
of this narrow gorge, Uncle suggested camping there
over night, explaining that: —

"Those rapids are dangerous, and you want a steady
nerve to shoot rapids."

The next morning, bright and early, the Kid started
to carry some of our baggage down to the boat. The
place where the boat was moored, not suiting him ex-
actly, he untied it and proceeded to direct it further
down the stream toward a spot more favorable and
easy of loading. How it happened, he could never tell,
he explained afterward. However, before he realized
his danger, the current was gradually carrying him into
mid-stream. The rest of us who had not been pay-
ing particular attention to him, were suddenly brought
to our feet by a cry of alarm from the Kid. All three
realized at a glance the danger threatening the Kid,
boat and provisions. Uncle was wild with rage and
fear; with rage on account of the destruction of the
boat, and with fear on account of the Kid*s life. He
ran up and down the bank, shouting and gesticulating
like a wild man, all the while shouting out instructions
to the Kid what to do. The boat had by this time been
drawn into the current, and was liable to be dashed
against the rocks at any moment, destroying both it
and the Kid. The Kid fought manfully to save him-
self and the boat, but being inexperienced, he fought
like a ship in a storm without a rudder. He was fast
losing his head and nerve, becoming rattled to such an
extent, that his ineffectual efforts to save the boat and
himself did more to jeopardize the safety of both than
if he had left everything to chance to carry him safely
through. In making a lunge with the paddle against a
rock to prevent the boat from striking its sharp edge,

DUAL PERSONALITY 43

his foot slipped, thereby diverting his arm, causing him
to miss it. For an instant he stood poised, trying to
regain his balance. The boat, grazing the rock, gave
a sudden lurch to the right, precipitating him head-long
into the foaming current. A cry of alarm went up
from us on the bank.

I took in the situation instantly. Running down the
bank, meanwhile divesting myself of my clothing, shout-
ing back to the rest to bring a rope, I fearlessly plunged
into the stream some distance above the island. I
struck out for mid-stream, at right angles to the island,
which was my objective point. I reached the island in
safety, although nearly exhausted. Scrambling to my
feet I hastily cast about for signs of the Kid, whom I
feared had gone under. I saw him being swept along
by the current not more than twenty feet above me
making weak and ineffectual efforts to reach the island.
I saw that I would have to act quickly if I'd want to
save him. Shouting a word of encouragement, I made
one tremendous leap and almost launched myself upon
him, striking the water three feet below him. Reach-
ing out with my left arm, I grabbed hold of the Kid as
he floated by, while with my other arm I fought my
way back to the island, gaining it about two hundred
feet below my first landing. We were both so ex-
hausted, we barely had strength enough left to draw
ourselves out of the water, neither of us saying a word
for sometime after, the Kid being nearly drowned,
especially gasping for breath. Uncle and Bust, who
had watched the rescue from the bank, gave vent to
their joy by wildly throwing their hats into the air
and shouting bravos.

The battle was but half won. We were safe for the
present, but we were on the wrong side of the stream.
The question was, how to get safely back to the river
bank. Would we be able to make it? One thing was

44 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

sure: we couldn't stay where we were. We were
chilled, and it was highly necessary for our health that
we got back to dry clothes and a warm fire.

In the meantime, what had become of our boat and
our supplies? The Kid's rescue had so absorbed every-
one's attention, that it was quite forgotten as it was be-
ing buffeted down stream, zigzagging its perilous way
^ between the dangerous rocks, like a drunken sailor. One
time it was making a sudden lunge at a vicious look-
ing rock as though endowed with reason and trying
to batter its particular object of hatred to pieces; again,
being balked in its designs, it would change its mind,
whirl suddenly around and repeat the tactics with its
stem. Thus it fought its way, staggering through
the rapids, until it reached pacific waters again, when
like a drunken man coming out of a debauch, it quietly
surrendered itself to reason and majestically floated
down the stream.

Bust and Uncle, had up to this time given all their
attention to the major part of the event — that of sav-
ing the Kid's life. As soon as we were safely landed
on the island. Bust's memory reverted to the boat and
its fate. Glancing up and down the stream and not
seeing anything of it, he concluded it had met with
destruction.

"Uncle, I guess the boat got drowned. It's not in
sight anywhere."

Uncle, happening to look down the stream, noticed a
black object floating close to the bank about a half
mile below.

"What's that down yonder close to the bank, Bust?
'pears to me like a big log or something of the sort."

"t think that's the boat. Uncle. I'll take a rope
and run down and see. If it is, I'll tow it to shore
and secure it."

Before Bust covered half the distance, he felt sure it

DUAL PERSONALITY 45

was the boat, and that it was close enough to the bank
for him to throw a rope across the bow and haul it to
the bank. Coming up to the boat, he hurriedly made a
noose in one end of the rope to serve as a lariat. Throw-
ing the noose over the bow, he pulled it in and tied it to
a tree and then hastened back to assist Uncle in res-
cuing the Kid and me.

"It's the boat all right, Uncle, and everything is
snug so far as I could see."

"That's good. Now we'll have to circumvent some
scheme to help the boys across. It's a ticklish job. I
guess this will serve to make the Kid a little bit more
careful in the future.

How're you doing boys?" he shouted across to us.
Think you can hold your wind long enough if we
help you across with a rope? Bust, will that rope
reach?" pointing to a coil of rope at his feet. "Hey
Los," he shouted as he picked up the rope, "I'm going
to throw this rope across, and I want you to grab a
hold of it if it reaches."

Tying a stone to it, he whirled it round and round
his head and suddenly left go. The rope was long
enough to reach across, but I missed it. Again Uncle
went through the process. The rope left his hand as
though shot from a catapult. This time I was more
successful, by getting a firm hold on it before it was
drawn into die stream.

"Is the Kid strong enough to try it? We want to
pull him across first. All he's got to do, is to keep his
pumpkin above water. We'll do the rest," Uncle
shouted.

The Kid thought he'd try it. Fastening the rope
around his chest, under the arms, he gave a "b-r-r-r,"
and without a moment's delay, he boldly plunged in.
The current was so strong that the rope was in danger
of breaking, and it took the united efforts of Uncle and

46 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

Bust to pull him to shore. The Kid wasn't much the
worse for this second plunge, it having taken but a few
minutes to pull him across.

"You're a pretty game fish after all, Kid, and it will
serve to cover a multitude of sins on jrour part. Now
run, so as to get your corpuscles moving, until we get
Los across. Take your duds off and put something
else on. Now Los, here's a go for you," Uncle shouted
as he once more coiled up the rope.

Again the rope whirled around his head. With a
hiss like a serpent it shot through the air, landing at
my feet. I promptly stepped on it.

"That was a good shot. Uncle," I shouted across as
I proceeded to untie the stone, and fasten the rope
around me.

When all was ready I shouted across for Uncle and
Bust to look out, and plunged in. I was about half-
way across when something happened. The rope was
not strong enough to resist the tension, and broke. I
went out of sight before the rest knew what had hap-
pened. The first they knew of anything going wrong
was to find themselves sprawling on the ground.

"The Lord help him now!" Uncle exclaimed as he
regained his feet.

I was a good swimmer, although I was inexperienced
in such water as this. For a moment I hardly knew
what had happened. When I realized what it was, I
knew that my only chance in safety lay in trying to
prevent myself from being dashed against the rocks, and
leave the current carry me down into more quiet wa-
ters. Several times I came near being dashed against
these treacherous obstacles. What I feared most was
a head-on collision, in which case I would be knocked
unconscious, and that would end my career. While
thus meditating and battling for my life, I suddenly
found myself shot into friendly wstt^$« Spurting the

DUAL PERSONALITY 47

water out of my mouth, I continued to float so as to
gain strength to enable me to swim to the bank, which
I finally gained just as Uncle and Bust came running
down, all out of wind.

"The Lord be praised 1" Uncle ejaculated between
his breaths. "We thought you were a goner this time
for sure."

"Not yet. Uncle, although I had my doubts about it
myself for a little while. But whereas the Kid?"

"Down below there, where the boat is, putting dry
paraphernalia on. I don't think he knows about the
excitement. Let's go down," Uncle suggested.

In a few moments we came down to where the Kid
and the boat were. Uncle proceeded to examine closely,
I meanwhile decking myself with a new outfit

"Kid," said Uncle, as he straightened himself before
the young worthy, who immediately felt a weakening
sensation in his knees in expectation of a severe lec-
ture, "I'm not going to lecture you, because I'm totally
unable to do justice to the occasion; but since you
were the prime mover in this diversion, I'll use my pre-
rogative and order you to carry wood and build a fire
so as to dry those clothes."

It was decided not to proceed any further that day,
but to remain until morning so as to give us a chance
to recover. Uncle remarking that, "Shooting the rapids
was a day's work in itself," especially in that style.

Three months after we had left Edmundson we found
ourselves at the head of the Peel River, where another
stretch of hard labor confronted us — that of lugging
our supplies across the mountains to the head of the
Beaver River. This it took us a week to accomplish,
after which we rested one whole day, it being a Sun-
day.

"Boys," said Uncle, as we were all trying to smoke
out the mosquitoes, "we are now in the Klondike, as

48 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

near as I can determine, and it behooves us to be on the
watch for the yellow stuff. Tomorrow, Kid, you and
ril get out our digging tools and start out on a pros-
pection down the river. Los and Bust will remain and
keep their eyes on the outfit."

This plan suited the Kid to a dot, it being more in
line with his prospective air-castles. During the night
he dreamed of mountains of gold where, all that was
necessary was a pick and shovel, and a brawny arm to
dig it out in chunks heavier than a man could lift. He
was in the midst of one of these beatific hallucinations,
vainly struggling with one of these huge nuggets when
he was somewhat rudely brought back to earthly con-
ditions by a violent shake from Uncle, who told him to:

"Hurry up to the feeding trough and get your share
of the fodder so we can make a break and get to
business."

After the Kid and Uncle had gone for sometime, I
suggested to Bust that we might do some prospecting on
our own account. In view of the danger our provisions
were in on account of bears and other wild animals, one
of us necessarily had to remain to stand guard over
them, the other one promising to keep within rifle-
shot hearing.

CHAPTER VII

np HE place where we had located our camp was at
the mouth of a little run which wormed its way
through the mountains and emptied its turbulent, bab-
bling waters into the creek, down which we had thus
far journeyed. Up this little stream, which was as
clear as crystal, I wended my way. I enjoyed this
stroll, all by myself, immensely. My heart bounded
with delight as I viewed the grand scenic effects of the
mountains, their sharp peaks covered with ice and snow.
I had probably strolled up the stream half-a-mile, when
I came to a large, flat rock that overhung the stream
where it had formed into a shallow, little pool, the bot-
tom of which was covered with variegated pebbles.
Here, I decided to sit down. Laying my rifle along-
side of me, I filled my pipe, and was soon lost in deep
reflections, as I gazed into the limpid pool beneath me,
my eyes assuming a faraway expression.

"I wonder who I am supposed to be, anyway.
Strange, that a little knock on the head can so effectually
put a part of yourself to sleep and leave the remaining
part of you so painfully awake."

Thus I sat on that rock, looking unconsciously into
the crystal pool, lost in revetie, having lost all conscious-
ness of surrounding objects. I unconsciously passed
into that negative state, that half-conscious zone, in
which I began to take pleasure the oftener I did so. It
began to be a real world to me, in which I could dream,
yea, in which I could often times see things beyond my
natural field of vision. In my subconscious state, as I
sat upon that rock, gazing into the pool, I saw with my
spiritual eyes a village, the houses of which were built

50 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

irregularly along the roadside, some of them half hid-
den behind the trees that shaded their fronts; I saw
golden, waving fields of grain ready for the reaper; in
others I saw herds of cattle browsing; I saw the little
brook hurriedly flowing between its narrow banks, and
in the distance, beyond the village I could see a bar-
rier of mountains, looking so green and fresh. All
these things I saw as in a dream, yet I was not dream-
ing.

I returned to consciousness. The vision instantly
vanished. I was once more the center of my present
surroundings, and began to take an inventory of my
present state, my second state of existence.

"I guess Uncle was pretty nearly right when he desig-
nated the brain a junk shop, full of apartments for stor-
ing all kinds of ideas — good, bad or indifferent. Well
Los, I suppose its of no use bewailing your loss. It
appears Tm still it," I continued, pressing down the to-
bacco in my pipe.

My attention was suddenly attracted by something in
the pool ; not one thing, but thousands of them ; things
that I had been looking at right along, but never no-
ticed. I had been so preoccupied in my own uncon-
scious reflections that my mind had refused to accept
what my eyes had been trying to tell me; something
similar to a person reading, and listening to someone
talking at the same time, and who suddenly remembers
that he does not remember, and has to go back and
start all over again.

The little pool was literally full of little, sparkling
suns and stars, winking and blinking at me as though
they were bidding me a gay good-morning. They
seemed to beckon me to come and put my fingers on
them ; to take them out and fondle them and play with
them. I jumped up and hurriedly waded into the
stream and hastily picked a few of them up. A sec-

DUAL PERSONALITY 5 1

ond's examination convinced me what they were. To
make sure, I took them between my teeth.

"Gold, gold! A mint of gold! Gee, won't this
make the Kid go into extravagance?"

At this moment two shots were fired in rapid succes-
sion. With a bound I jumped out of the stream. To
grasp my rifle and make a break in the direction of the
camp took but a second's time.

"I wonder what is up now," I mused, irritated at
being disturbed in my wonderful find.

It took me but a few minutes to reach the camp—
and none too soon. Two immense bears had invaded
the camp while I was away, no doubt attracted by the
smell of provisions, especially the bacon. One of them
was busily engaged in taking an inventory of our stock
of supplies, whilst the other one devoted his time to hug-
ging Bust, whose face and right arm showed unmis-
takable signs of the brute's strenuous love making. His
coat and shirt were torn into shreds, and the blood was
streaming down his face from a wound in his fore-
head. Not more than ten feet away, lay a rifle, with
the stock broken off. The bear also showed signs of
not having escaped damage during the scrimmage. His
left shoulder was bleeding profusely, no doubt from a
wound caused by a bullet.

One glance over the battlefield was enough for me to
size up the situation. Shouting a cry of warning for
Bust to look out, I hurriedly ran up to within a few
yards of the bear and, taking a steady aim, I put a
bullet through his brain. With a growl of rage and
pain the bear gradually relaxed his hold on Bust and
fell over, dead. Bust, from loss of blood and pain,
fell over in a faint.

In the meantime, the other bear, having unearthed
the bacon, was waltzing around on his hind feet with a
large piece between his two front paws, enjoying his

52 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

feast with occasional grunts of satisfaction as he vic-
iously bit into it, the fat dripping off on either side of
his jaw. Having noticed the fateful end that overtook
his friend and partner in the raid, he dropped the bacon
in rage and made an onslaught on me, who hastily tak-
ing aim, discharged my last bullet into the brute's
shoulder with apparently little effect, except that of
increasing the bear's rage and accelerating his speed. I
realized the disadvantage I was in, my last bullet be-
ing fired. The bear was between me and the tent, thus
blocking the way to where the ammunition was stored.
I still had my hunting knife to defend myself with. My
revolvers I had left in the camp when I started on
my walk up the stream that morning, not thinking I
would need them, — a foolish thing for me to do in such
a wild country.

The ground where we had made our temporary
home, was in the form of a wedge made so by the con-
fluence of the two streams, and was studded with heavy
pine trees. The unconscious Bust and I were hemmed
in by the streams on either side, on the apex of this
wedge, the tent being located on the opposite, or thick
end. To the left of a line, between me and the bear,
were two big trees standing on the bank of one of the
streams. Behind one of these I decided to run to gain
the first point of vantage. Gripping my hunting knife
in my right hand I made a dash for the tree. The bear,
seeming to divine my plan, tried to head me off. I got
there first, and without stopping to consider made a
bound for the other one, distant about ten feet. I had
now gained a decided advantage over the bear, revers-
ing our relative positions. I had still a good distance
to cover in order to reach the tent, and on clear ground
I wouldn't have stood a chance with the bear as a com-
petitor in the race. By running in and out amongst
the trees I hoped to bs^e the bear, thus giving me a

DUAL PERSONALITY 53

chance to reach the tent and pick up some weapon of
defense. All this I took in while I was running be-
tween the first and second trees, the bear meanwhile
being in hot chase.

Casting a glance over my shoulder, I noticed with
dismay that the bear was fast gaining on me. Before
I reached the tent I had to cover a clear space of about
fifty yards in length. Here was the crucial point where
my life might depend on my ability in handling my
hunting knife. Just as I gained the edge of the clear-
ance, dashing out from a big tree, the last one, I disr
covered a stout rope, coiled up, lying near its trunk.
Hastily snatching it up, I ran at right angles to my
former course, along the edge of the clearance, thus
gaining on the bear, which nearly tumbled over in his
clumsy effort to check his speed.

The rope which I had so opportunely found, proved
a weapon of no mean defense Before I had time to tie
and adjust the noose the bear was again in hot pursuit.
Dashing in and out amongst the trees, adjusting the
noose and coiling the rope properly, the bear after me,
growling in rage, I at last saw my opportunity. Gain-
ing a clear spot amongst the trees, I suddenly faced
about. The bear being taken by surprise at this new
front by the enemy, reared on his hind legs, thus giving
me the opportunity I desired. The rope hissed through
the air, the noose settling over the bear's head, I gave it
a sudden jerk to tighten it. The rope proved a new
proposition to the bear. Not understanding its cause
nor effect, instead of continuing the chase after me he
now gave his attention to this new enemy. While the
bear was vainly trying to free himself from the rope, I
wound the loose end around the trunk of a tree and
tied it.

"Now, Mr. Bear, while you are enjoying yourself
with the rope, FU see if I can't circumvent you! as

54 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

Uncle would say."

Fearing that the bear might break the rope, I hurried
to procure a rifle and my revolvers in order to finish the
enemy. The bear, seeing me return with a new
weapon in my hands, made frantic efforts to get at me.
Getting up on his haunches, the brute gave a sudden,
violent jerk, throwing his whole weight and strength in-
to the rope. It gave way with a snap, one end flying back
toward the tree where it was tied, while the bear, with
the other end around his neck, was rolling on the
ground. Hastily scrambling to his feet, the bear, now
being free, seemed to fairly laugh as he made a rush
for me. I, who realized that everything now depended
on cool courage, took steady aim for the bear's eye. The
bear was within ten feet of me. Crack! I jumped to
one side as the bear rushed by me sorely wounded.
Crack ! Went my rifle again. This time the bear went
down with the spinal-cord severed.

Now that I was safe, with both enemies down and
out, I betook myself to examine my friend's condition.
I found him still unconscious. On examination of my
partner's wounds, I found them not as dangerous as at
first supposed. Mixing a little brandy with water, I
dropped a few drops of this down Bust's throat, which
soon produced a change.

"How are you. Bust?" I asked him as he slowly
opened his eyes shortly after, with a vacant stare. "You
had a pretty narrow escape this time. That old bear
was just determined to show his affection for you. I
just happened to come in the nick of time, too."

"Yes Los, I feel as though my whole backbone was
dislocated. He certainly hung on to me. Where is
the old parasite, anyway?"

"There he lies on your other side."

"What became of the other one? There were two, I
remember."

DUAL PERSONAUTY S5

"Oh, the other one took the same journey. I had
quite a little time to convince him of his folly in ran-
sacking other people's castles. In fact, he tried to con-
vince me that I was in the wrong. It was a neck to
neck race for a while to see who'd reach the tent first.
I finally had to tie him to a tree until I could get my
persuaders. When I came back he broke loose. Then
you should have seen him trying to hug me. It seems
to me, bears have a fondness for hugging. I think Fd
better get you over to the tent and dress up your
scratches a little, so as to make you look more pre-
sentable to Uncle and the Kid when they return."

Assisting Bust to his feet, I slipped my arm around
him and thus supported him on our way to the tent,
where I proceeded to dress his wounds, in the meantime
telling him of my find up the run.

"I tell you. Bust, we'll all soon be traveling in John
D's footsteps."

Bust took a great interest in my golden narrative, and
it served as a powerful tonic on his over-wrought
nerves.

"It will make the Kid's mouth water when he hears
the tale," he said.

"Yes, and it will serve to put the old man in better
humor, now since our bacon is gone," I answered.

"Yes, he'd never get over that fact if we wouldn't
have the gold story to trump it with."

Toward evening Uncle and the Kid returned with-
out anything encouraging to report.

"Hello, what's this?" Uncle exclaimed as he saw
Bust lying on a bed of blankets with his head all ban-
daged up.

"He's been playing with a bear, Uncle, and got
tickled a little too hard. Nothing serious. He'll be
around in a few days."

I related to Unde and the Kid the whole story f nMn

56 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

the time they left until their return, with the exception
of my discovery, which I held in reserve as a final card
until after Uncle had blown himself.

"And all our bacon gone? FU be hanged!" deplor-
ing the loss with a shake of the head,

"Not exactly," I answered.

"How do you make that out? You just told me the
bear ate it," Uncle snapped.

"Well, haven't we got the bear?" I answered with a
peculiar smile on my face. "Can't we eat the bear?
Then we'll have bear, bacon and all. Uncle, it's of no
use being grouchy about it," I said, playfully slapping
him on the back. "I have another little tale to tell
you — some little wayside story with a golden border. —
Listen sharp. Kid," addressing the youngster who by
this time had mouth, ears and eyes open.

Uncle, who seldom showed much emotion, and who
usually took things in a matter-of-fact way, neverthe-
less pricked up his ears considerably as I proceeded with
my narrative.

"Tell me all about it. Tell me all about it, boy," he
used to exclaim whenever I stopped to take breath. "It
certainly is a wonderful story — too good to believe —
almost. Won't you be having hallucinations tonight.
Kid?"

"It's simply glorious. Uncle," the Kid shouted, slap-
ping his thighs gleefully. "I'm going to negotiate for
another cattle-ranch as soon as I see the proof of Los'
story."

"Here's the proof," I said reaching into my pocket
and drawing out some of the shining flakes.

"Did you get them up there?" Uncle asked eagerly
as he got out his knife and separated them on the palm
of his hand with the blade.

"Yes, I'd have gotten some more if I wouldn't have
been called away on more important business," I said

DUAL PERSONALITY 57

significantly nodding toward Bust.

"How far up the creek is this place?" inquired Uncle.

"About half a mile," I replied.

"We'll have to investigate tomorrow morning."

The following morning Uncle and the Kid started
early on their way up the stream in search of the place
where I had described having found the treasure. In
about two hours' time they returned, bringing a capful
of sand, mixed with the shining little flakes, along.

"Los, I've laid my eyes on some pretty scenery in my
time, but never anything like this. This beats the old
Nick at his own game. Say, we'll all be buying cattle-
ranches before long, eh? It's almost a shame to take
it, that easy it is. Here Bust, wake up, and let the light
shine into your eyes. Here's what we'll pay ourselves
with for what wasn't coming to us last year.

"Now, boys, we'll have to hustle and erect a good
substantial shanty before winter sets down on us. And
here's where you get the real unadulterated kind, direct
from the factory. I've seen it so cold in this country
that the howls froze in the wolves' throats and choked
them to death."

For about two weeks our axes rang throughout the
forests and mountains. Everything was made snug and
tidy because, as Uncle said :

"We're going to plant ourselves and stay right here."

Bust's wounds had soon healed and everyone was
jolly and healthy. We had built our cabin up the
stream, near the place where we intended to work. Be-
fore winter set in we had panned several thousand
dollars worth of dust. After cold weather came, and
we could no more work the stream, we began to drift
down into the side of the mountain, throwing the dirt
out on a pile, to be panned the following spring.

CHAPTER VIII

TP HAT first winter in Alaska was an eye-opener to
me, so far as its rigor was concerned. And yet,
I enjoyed it immensely. So did the Kid. Often times
he and I would roll ourselves in the dry snow for very
excess of joy. He and I became fast companions and
many a hunting trip we made together after venison
and other game, seldcMn returning without having bag-
ged some animal to supply us with fresh meat.

The long evenings I spent mostly in studying the
Scriptures. I was thirsting for that Spiritual light
whereby I might be enabled eventually to solve the
riddle that continually harassed my mind. I was turn-
ing into a mystic, and the deeper I delved into the
mysteries of "Occult Science" the more fascinated I
became with it. It had already opened unto me a
vast book of hidden secrets, the import of which at
that time, so far as they concerned me and my past,
forgotten life, I failed to understand. Not until some
years later were their true meanings revealed to me.

I read and studied the miracles of Moses, the vision
he had on Mt. Sinai when the Lord spake to him; I
read the wonderful prophecies of Daniel and Isaiah —
the dreams and visions they had. All were divinely
gifted with a knowledge of that science for which my
soul yearned.

Often times, at night, while lying in my bunk and
everything was still, so perfectly quiet I seemed to feel
its oppressive calm hanging suspended over me like some
ponderous weight) I placed m3rself into that n^ative
state whereby I submerged my Objective Mind and
allowed my Subconscious Self to rise to the threshold

DUAL PERSONALITY 59

and enable me to see with my spiritual eyes those things
which I felt positive would some day reveal unto me
the secrets of my past.

As the winter passed, those visions became more fre-
quent. During those times I was in another world.
They took me into far oil countries, and amongst scenes
of which I had no recollection. But they gave me
unbounded pleasure as they passed in review before my
occult eyes.

One night as I thus lay in that half conscious state I
had a vision such as I liad not had before. I felt certain
it was a message of direct import to me. It affected me
deeply for long afterward. Yet in that total, blank
state of consciousness I was in, regarding my past,
what was I to do? How was I to act? I might travel
to the four comers of the earth and still fail to locate
the place where the actual scene happened. The scene
was so real, I shall never forget it.

I had another vision of that village I had seen while
gazing into the placid waters of the little pool where I
had discovered the flakes of gold, and near which we
had now built our cabin.

It was a beautiful, mild day in autumn. The leaves
of the trees had taken on their beautiful autumn colors.
In that village there was a modest little home, the yard
in front of which Was neatly and well kept. And as I
looked, I saw a double team tied to the hitching post.
And then my vision took me into a little room, and
there I saw that little child with the curls and her
mother whose face looked so sad and careworn, but
resigned. In front of her stood a man, a tall, strongly-
built man who was talking to her, emphasizing his
speech with profuse gestures. I saw him take up the
diild and kiss her and speak to her. I saw him place
the child on her feet once more and then address him-
self to the mother. I saw him become more vociferous.

6o STORIES OF THE OCCULT

and finally menacing toward her. I saw the mother
flush red in the face, and I saw her stamp her foot and
point toward the door. And then I saw him assault her,
and in selfdefense she reached out with her hand and
fought him like a tigress at bay. I saw blood stream-
ing down his face, and then he struck her. I saw her
body strike the stove and then fall to the floor. I saw
the child bending over her, crying, while the man stood
quietly looking on, with his back toward the door.

And I saw a young man cross the threshold of the
door. He was a man of medium height but very
strongly built, with light, flaxen hair. I saw him
crouch up to the man with his back toward the door
and presently his right hand shot out and he took hold
of the other man's neck and swung him round toward
him. I saw him speak to the woman and to the man
and then the two men passed out of the room. And
presently I saw the two cross the road to a small plot
of grass, and there the young man knocked the other
man down. The blood was streaming out of his nose
as he rose onto his feet. And I saw the young man
knock him down once more and then all was over. The
vision had vanished.

The long winter with its long nights and short days
— in fact no days at all for a time — came to an end at
last, reversing the nocturnal and diurnal time. I be-
came restless and nervous, and easily excited. The
visions I had had and which had become more and more
distinct the oftener I had them, began to prey upon my
already agitated mind. I longed for action, not the ac-
tion required by my daily toil in the drift, but the action
that would call me away, that would keep me on the
move. I felt as though I would willingly once more
brave the wide stretch of the desert, once more going
.through the terrible experience of suffering I had
passed through in crossing it, if only I might solve the

«1

DUAL PERSONALITY 6i

import of these visions. I was diafing like a horse at
the bit.

The rest began to notice the change in me. From a
spirit of gayety, I had changed into one of sullenness
and oftentimes moroseness.

One day when I was in one of these moods — a most
malignant one — Uncle put the question which I had for
sometime anticipated, directly up to me.
'Los, what is the matter with you ?"
'Nothing," I answered curtly, unduly irritated at
the question.

"Yes, there is something wrong. You are down-
hearted and sullen. Something is preying on your
mind. Let us take a walk," he continued.

Together we walked down the little creek to that
triangular piece of ground where we had first camped,
and where I killed the two bears. Here we sat down
on a log which we had hewn during our short stay.

"Now tell me your trouble," he said. We befriend-
ed you, we acted the Good Samaritan to you, and we
confided in you when in your hour of greatest dis-
tress, when even the friendship of a dog would have
been a God-send to you. On the bond of such a friend-
ship you have a right to take me into your confidence
and tell me your trouble. Whatever it is the secret
shall be inviolate. Is the dead ghost of the past rising
before you and haunting you? Your past life, deeds
that you would prefer should remain buried, are they
encroaching upon your memory once more?"

"No, not that. Uncle," I replied sadly. "Were that
the case, I would shout for very joy. Black as those
deeds might be, I would hail their remembrance with
satisfaction. I would spend my whole remaining days
in atoning for them."

He took my hand in his in friendly clasp and looked
me straight in the eyes Mrith those steel-gray ones of his.

62 STORIES OP THE OCCULT

It was one of those steady, detennined looks which he
sometimes gave the Kid when occasion demanded.

"Well then what in the nation is it? I must know."

I quailed before his gaze. Not so much on account
of that as the expression on his face — that old, far-dis-
tant, familiar expression, accompanied by the equally
far-distant, familiar by-word he used in putting the
question.

Then I told him all. I told him of the book I had
read, treating of the "Subjective Mind," given to me
by the old farmer in Pennsylvania; I told him of the
visions I had had and how they affected me and im-
pressed me. When I had done, he asked :

"Is that all that is troubling you?"

"Yes, that is all," I answered.

"I also read on that subject. I finally threw the book
away in disgust. I came to the conclusion that this
life was too material, founded on too rock-bottomed
facts for us to have it disturbed by such vapory halluci-
nations. Dreams do not disturb me, neither does dys-
pepsia rack my stomach. Let us go back. Shake it off.
Forget it."

"One word more. Uncle, and then we will forget
this conversation. I hope, yes, I sincerely believe before
you and I part, either in life or in death, these dreams,
hallucinations as you call them, will some day stand
revealed to me as truthful messages, messages which my
own soul tries so hard to reveal to my conscious self
and which my memory fails so utterly to recollect and
understand. Even you, Uncle, show something about
you sometimes that seems familiar to me; something I
had seen or heard in the far distant past."

He looked at me quizzically.

"But let us forget that too, for the present. Who
knows, perhaps some day in the future I may recollect
where and when I have seen you before in years gone
by," I said.

DUAL PERSONALITY 63

Strange, how we speak words of truth and wisdom
sometimes in our ignorance.

By this time we arrived at the cabin and we dropped
the subject.

Henceforth I determined to shake this distressing
feeling off and forced myself to appear more gay and
pleasant. I kept my own counsel, but at night when
everything was quiet and I could commune with my-
self undisturbed, I tried to get visions. And I did re-
ceive many of them; many things were revealed to me
through telepathic agency, all of which were proven
truthful years afterward.

During the day I worked with pick and shovel like
a slave, neither sparing myself nor wishing to be spared.
It was real rest to my mind. It helped me to forget in
that it occupied it with the work at hand.

CHAPTER IX

44T} OYS, I'm going on an excursion to-day. Who'll
accompany me ? I intend to be gone all day. This
is too much of a stationary job for me, to be tied down
six days in a week, week in and week out without any
spice for variety," I said one Sunday morning after
breakfast.

It was in early September. The air was crisp, dry
and bracing, and the sky was clear, with a bright sun
shining down between the mountains tops. It was just
such a day as infuses life and ambition into a vigorous,
robust man. None of the rest volunteered to accompany
me as I shouldered my rifle and hurriedly passed out
of sight down the little stream.

I enjoyed this tramp through the mountains by my-
self. I loved to be alone once in a while, where I could
commune with mjrself , free from the intrusive thoughts
of others. We had been in this cold, inhospitable region
somewhat more than three years, without meeting a
single solitary person, barring the few times wt had
made trips to one of the "Hudson Bay Co.'s," posts for
provisions. We had worked hard in search of gold ever
since we had pitched our camp, and had been successful
even beyond the Kid's dreams, which we know were
flighty enough. The gold had panned out in such
quantities as to make veritable gluttens of us all.

I decided to explore a little of the coimtry to-day, —
some new section, where I had never been before. I
followed the stream for about two hours, about six or
seven miles, when I came to the mouth of another small
stream* It was just such another little stream, like the
one we had pitched our home on. Up this creek,

DUAL PERSONALITY 65

through the mountains, I wended my way. I had fol-
lowied its course for about three miles, when I suddenly
and unexpectedly came upon a snug little cabin built in
a niche of the mountain.

"Hello, I thought we were the only ones in these
diggings. I see we have neighbors."

My first thought was to make a secret investigation
before showing myself, but on second thought I decided
to approach boldly and knock.

"Who is out ?" came the inquiry, in a sharp but pleas-
ant female voice, in answer to my knock.

"A friend," I answered. "Would you mind open-
mg?

The door slowly opened. I was so completely taken
by surprise, I forgot I had a tongue to speak with. In
front of me stood a young woman with a rifle in her
haiids, pointed directly at my chest.

Here in this cold, bleak country, thousands of miles
from civilization, I discovered one of its rarest flowers.

"Ah, pardon me, lady, if I intrude. The fact is I
stumbled upon your home unexpectedly. I did not
know we had such a charming neighbor," I apologized.

"Did you say we ? Are you not alone, then ? Where
are your friends ?" she inquired.

"My friends? I left them at home, over yonder
about ten miles. I started out alone this morning on a
little exploring expedition, and thus I happen to be
looking into the barrel of your rifle. I hope you'll
oblige me by lowering it. — Have no fear, lady," I
said as she hesitated. "I announce myself as a friend,
and would not harm a hair on your head. You must
pardon me for my rude stare, but you are really the
first human being I've seen for a long, long time, — I
mean, one that really looked good to me."

"I hardly understand you," she answered. You
surely cannot be tired of seeing your friends?"

66 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

"No, not exactly; I remember the first time I met
them; they were certainly delightful things to look
upon. But then you know even the faces of our friends
become monotonous sometimes, especially when they are
of the ordinary, every day variety. It's like looking at
a piece of brass; at first it's bright and shiny, like a
piece of gold, later on it becomes dull and tarnished,
and represents no more than a piece of old junk to one,
whereas a diamond, one can always see some new
scintillations or blending of rays that you had never
seen before. A rainbow always looks beautiful, wheth-
er you see it in the morning or evening. But, pardon
me, you surely do not live all by yourself in this lone-
some spot?"

"No, sir, I don't think Fd have the courage to exist
all by myself here. I have a brother living with me,
whom I expect back almost any minute. He went out
this morning in search of game, and—"

"You stayed home to entertain lonely strangers and
keep house I presume."

"Well, yes, I suppose you might put it that way,"
she answered with a smile.

"You come from the States ?" I inquired.

"Yes, we come from Chicago. We came up here
four years ago, my brother and I, in search of fortune
and adventure. It's only the last two that we've
located up here ; previous to that my brother worked a
claim down at Dawson. It's through some circum-
stances which I may not explain that we are here."

"Don't you find it very lonesome in this spot? — so
Godforsaken lonely!"

"Well, yes, I do sometimes. Of course we expect to
go back to the States before long, — that is, in a few
years. Pardon me, but you must be hungry after your
tramp. Let me make you a cup of tea, and — take a
seat; you must be very tried," pointing to a rude chair.

DUAL PERSONALITY 67

I didn't wait for a second bidding of this nature. A
cup of tea — from her hands? Delightful! — and so
romantic! Besides I was becoming conscious of a vo-
racious appetite. I drew up my rude chair, expressing
my thanks in a flowery little speech while I stretched
out my sturdy limbs.

"Hello pardner, how are you doing?"

I had just been in the act of raising the cup to my
lips, when I was arrested by the words coming from the
direction of the doorway. Hastily setting it down, I
turned and faced the author, a tall, wiry built man,
somewhat resembling the girl in features.

"How'd d'ye do," I returned the greeting.

"That's my brother," the young lady interrupted.

"I am greatly pleased to meet you. Your sister,
whose kind hospitality I have accepted, told me you
were out after some game. Hope you have been suc-
cessful. I started out this morning with the same in-
tention without any success in that line; however, I
have found something far more pleasing to my hunter's
eye," making at the same time a sweeping bow before
the young lady. "I stumbled accidentally upon your
habitation here, being quite ignorant of the proximity
of such delightful neighbors."

"Then you live in these parts, too, do you?" the
brother asked. "I imagined Sister and I were quite
alone in these parts."

"Yes, my friends and I live about ten miles distant, —
up the other creek," nodding my head in the direction
indicated.

"Working a claim?" the brother asked.

"Yes, I suppose you are doing the same thing."

"Trying to. Poor panning; very poor. Sister and
I have been thinking of locating further up, in way of
changing luck. Why, it's going to snow!"

My attention had been so riveted by my new found

68 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

friends that I had entirely failed to note the change of
the weather. I was, therefore, not very agreeably sur-
prised when my attention was so suddenly directed to-
ward it.

"Gee, I must be going 1" I exclaimed, making a rush
for the door.

"Keep cool, my friend, keep cool," said the brother
laying a detaining hand on me. "Is this your first
winter in Alaska?"

"No, this is my third," I answered.

"And you don't know yet what a snow storm in
Alaska means? Why man, you'd never get home alive.
You can't see ten feet ahead of you now," he said as he
opened the door to look out. "Listen to the wind
howling. Take my advice, partner, and stay right here,
where you're safe. Besides, it'll do sister and me good
to talk about old times."

"But my friends! I'll be causing trouble all around."

"You won't give any trouble here, stranger, and as
for your friends, it's better to be worried and find you
alive, than to be worried and find you a corpse after-
ward."

If I could have eliminated the trouble I occasioned
my friends, nothing would have given me greater
pleasure than to spend the night in the company of these
two young people, especially the young lady, whom I
found very charming and cultured. I found them both
well educated and refined, and entirely free from the
jargon I was so accustomed to hear from Uncle and
others of his rough but honest class. My friends, no
doubt, would give me up for lost. At the same time, I
reasoned, in this country, one must be brave and hardy
enough to meet any and all kinds of circumstances and
misfortunes. Why should they worry? I had demon-
strated to them, time and again that I was able to take
care of myself under the most trying circumstances.

DUAL PERSONALITY 69

With that I dismissed my friends from my mind.

We became very good friends, and talked late into
the night, discoursing on various subjects. During the
course of the evening, I gave them the history of my
experience, so far as I remembered, my friends doing
likewise. They evinced great surprise and interest in
my experiences and mental loss. Miss Bristow — that
being their name— especially being very sympathetic in
her expressions; a fact, which in itself would have in-
creased my estimation of her fifty per cent, if that were
possible. In the mioming, after wakening, I opened the
door, to find that it had stopped snowing. The wind
had gone down, but the air was dry and intensely cold.
After breakfast I thanked them profusely for their
hospitality and gave them a hearty good-bye, with the
remark :

"I hope we may meet again," addressing the words
especially to Miss Bristow.

"I hope we will," she answered. "You must be sure
and try to see us again next spring, if unable to do so
this winter."

"Thank you, I certainly will if I live that long.
Good-bye," I called as I started to wade through the
deep snow toward my own cabin.

When about half way on my journey, I met Uncle
and the Kid in search for me, expecting to find my
corpse.

"Where have you been hibernating through all this
snow bluster," Uncle asked. "When everybody is ex-
pecting to find your body frozen stiff, — here you bob
up as serene as a smoked herring in June. We were
nearly worried to death all night about you. The Kid
wanted to start out last night for you, but Lord! you
wouldn't see your hand before your face, that bad it
was. Tell us about yourself.

"I will, Uncle, as soon as you give me a chance to

70 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

get in a word cat-a-comer. To solve the most im-
portant doubt in your mind, then — I stayed with
friends."

This was like the explosion of a bomb.

"With friends!" Uncle and the Kid both exclaimed
together.

"You both heard me right. With friends; real live
friends, like you and I, — and, Oh Lord, Unde!" giving
him a resounding slap on the shoulder, "I came in con-
tact with the prettiest female specimen IVe ever had the
good fortune to lay my eyes on. It would do your
shriveled up, weazened old soul a pile of good to look
upon her. She's an angel, I tell you."

"An angel! IVe never seen the woman yet that
hadn't some little mischief chained fast in her heart. If
you knew women folks as well as I do, you wouldn't
be so apt to lose your head at first sight of one. An
angel! Say Los, if it was the Kid, here, I wouldn't
think so much of it, — ^but you ! — to go daffy on a petti-
coat at first sight, — ^why it's simply preposterous."

This sarcastic speech from Uncle, nettled me a little.

"Uncle, the people don't all look at things through
your narrow windows, and I hope some day you may
be compelled to swallow some of your words. For
youT Mother's sake, — ^and I hope you once had a mother
— ^you ought to use more respectful language in speak-
ing of women. You have not offended me, but you
have insulted that young lady in whom I have taken
a particular interest Because you have met a few of
the worst in your time isn't said that they all belong
to that class. We won't argue an3niiore about the
girl. Let's hurry home and convince Bust that I'm
still alive and kicking. I want to go to work and dig,
dig, dig for all I'm worth. I've been a fool these last
five years, I tell you. She opened my eyes and showed
me where my duty lay."

DUAL PERSONALITY 7 1

Bust was overjoyed to find me safe and sound. We
all ate a hearty breakfast, after which we started for
the drift, I taking the lead, determinedly grabbed my
pick and shovel. I seemed to be infused with new life.
No more dilly-dallying with me. For days, weeks
and months — all that winter, I kept at it, hardly tak-
ing time to eat or sleep. The bitter cold seemed to
have no effect on me. We had drifted down about
twenty feet when we struck bed-rock, from where we
ramified in all directions into the heart of the moun-
tain. By spring we had an immense pile of dirt which
we commenced to pan as soon as the weather became
favorable. Day after day our hoardings increased.
We gloated over it like starving dogs over a bone.
About the girl, I never mentioned a word. I had de-
termined, however, to renew our short acquaintance
at the earliest opportunity.

CHAPTER X

tp ARLY one Sunday morning, when the days were
•■■^ almost at their longest, I took my rifle and set
out to fulfill the promise I had made Miss Bristow —
that of paying them a visit in spring.

"Where are you going, Los?" Uncle inquired.

"Oh, Tm going for a stroll. And don't get worried
about me if Tm not back by the time you see the sun
to the north of you. There'll be no snow storm today."

"Hum-mm, is that the way the breeze blows diis
morning? Well I wish you success, Los, — ^but say,
don't get lost in the meshes of her hair."

"No fear. Uncle," I answered back in a jolly sort of
way, as I hurried down along the creek with a springy
gait, my whole body aglow with the fire that raged in
my heart.

I wouldn't as yet admit, even to myself that I was
in love. Oh no! This was only a friendly call I was
going to make. The reason I was in such a hurry was,
— ^well, because I felt extra good this morning. And
besides, hadn't I been driving myself like this all win-
ter? Besides, — I tried hard to persuade myself, —
didn't I set out to see Mr. Bristow? Because his sis-
ter was living with him was no fault of mine. I slack-
ened my pace as I neared their cabin, for fear they
would notice my impatience, the door standing wide
open. As I came up to the door I found her sitting
at the rude table with her back turned toward me,
reading a book. For one whole minute I stood there
unnoticed and unheard, admiring her long golden hair,
which almost reached the floor.

"Good-morning," I saluted her pleasantly.

DUAL PERSONALITY 73

She jumped up with a start and faced me.

"Why, how do you do, Mr. Name? We thought
you had forgotten all about us. My brother and I
were talking about you this morning."

"The old saying is: *When you think of Satan, his
Imp is sure to follow!' "

"Well, Mr. Name! Fm sure we never thought of
you in that way. But, come in and take a seat. It's
nicer in here than out there in the warm sun. My
brother went up the gulch and may not be back for
sometime. Often times he stays all day, on a nice day
like this."

"I'm sorry he is not at home. I took a great liking
to him the first time I was here," I answered, for want
of something better to say.

Not for the world would I have her to think that
I came expressly to see her. She might think me a
little too premature.

"By the way, Mr. Name, how did you get home the
morning after the snow storm? Were your friends
worried very much about you?"

"I met them half way home, out on the search for
me. They expected to find a frozen body. They
were very much surprised when I told them of the hos-
pitable neighbors I had found. If it wasn't so far I'd
invite you and your brother up sometime."

"How is your claim doing, Mr. Name?"

"Right well, thank you. If it keeps on panning like
it's doing now, we'll be able to leave the country in a
few years, at the longest. How is yours doing?" I
asked her.

"Not as well as it was doing at first. Brother thinks
of changing our location."

"By the way, what are you reading. Miss Bristow,"
I asked glancing at the book now lying on the table.

"Why I have just finished reading Emerson's Essay

74 STORIES OF THE OgCULT

on ^Success.* Do you read much, Mr. Name?"

"I am very fond of reading, and I deplore the fact of
not having a single book amongst our whole stock in
trade, with the exception of the Bible. That of course,
as you know, is the book of books and should satisfy
a man's wants. But I really become very hungry some-
times for something else to read. I do not know how I
came to forget to bring several along with us when w6
set out three years ago."

"I'd be very glad to loan you some of mine if you
can find any interesting ones among them. Come here,
ril show you what I have."

She led me to the farther end of the room. She
deftly drew aside a blue, silk curtain, behind which I
discovered a whole shelf full of the best ancient and
modern classics.

"It is but a very modest collection, Mr. Name," she
said by way of apology.

I ran my eyes over the choice collection, reading the
titles aloud : Homer, Virgil, Shakespeare, Milton, By-
ron, Tennyson, Longfellow and Walt Whitman,
amongst the poets ; Hugo, Sue, Scott, Dickens, Thack-
eray, Hawthorne, Holmes' Autocrat Series, and the
autobiography of Benvenuto Cellini.

"My! but you have a choice selection. Miss Bristow.
Some of them I have read. That old farmer I stayed
with, the first winter after coming out of the hospital,
had a very fine collection of books and I read nearly
all of them. The 'Life of Benvenuto Cellini,' is it in-
teresting?"

"Very much so. It is considered the most fascinating
autobiography ever written. He was a Florentine gold-
beater and sculptor; a man endowed with the two ex-
tremes in nature. In reading it you will be impressed
with his good and evil geniuses, alternately. At one
moirilent he is the saint, at the next he is the exact

DUAL PERSONALITY 75

opposite. If you wish to read it you may take it with
you, and any others you may desire."

"Thank you very kindly. I will take it, and one of
Emerson's if you please."

We kept on talking thus until well into the after-
noon, when I decided it was time for me to leave.

"Are you not afraid of staying all by yourself, Miss
Bristow?"

"Oh no, I often stay alone. I have a very good
friend here, and I know how to use it. Let me show
you. Do you see that little twig, hanging by a shred
of bark, down on that big pine tree?"

"Yes, I see it, but you surely don't mean — "

What else I was going to say. Miss Bristow did
not stop to listen. My words were sharply cut short
by the crack of her rifle, the little twig falling to the
ground.

"Miss Bristow, you are a wonder. It's exactly fifty
paces," I said, after stepping it off.

"I have done better than that, Mr. Name. But I
think that will convince you that this little pet and I
have known each other longer than to-day."

"I wish Uncle could see that," I said partly to myself
and partly to her.

"Uncle? Who is uncle?" she inquired.

"Oh, he is one of my three friends. He has some
queer notions that kind of jar on my nerves sometimes;
good, honest soul, though, he is. Well, Miss Bristow,
I surely must be going. I bid you good-bye."

She reached out her delicate hand, which became com-
pletely lost as I lingeringly held it in my big brawny
fist. It affected me like an electric shock passing
through my body. I noticed two bright red spots on
her cheeks as our eyes met, each guessing the other's
secret. Not pretending any longer that I came to see
her brother, I found myself gone completely, over this

76 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

bewitching damsel witK the golden hair. My heart
began to beat like a hammer. I stood there like a little
school boy reciting his first nursery rhyme. Several
times I began to stammer something unintelligible.

She watched me, a smile pla3ang around her pretty
miouth.

Finally I controlled myself.

"I beg your pardon, Miss Bristow, but indeed you
ate so good to look at ; you are such a splendid, such a
superb girl!"

"Please do not flatter me, Mr. Name. It is some-
thing I do not care for."

"Believe me, I am sincere in what I say. Flattery
is something I do not indulge in. In fact, I am some-
times too plain spoken in expressing my convictions.
But do you know, I feel lonesome sometimes? So in-
fernally lonesome! If 'I could only clear up this my-
stery surrounding me. It weighs upon mie like a mill-
stone around my neck. In every step I might take that
would conduce to my happiness I have to take this
thing into consideration, because 1 expect some day my
past will be fully cleared up, good, bad or indifferent."

"I feel sincerely sorry for you, Mr. Name. I can
fully reailze the disadvantage you are laboring imder,
and I hope and pray that some day you may find your-
self again, and your mystery fully cleared up to your
happiness and advantage."

"Thank you very kindly for your good wishes. Miss
Bristow. I must be off now. There is one more favor
I would like you to grant me."

"What is It?"

"That I may come to see you sometimes, to talk to
you and to hear you talk. Believe me it will give me
more happiness than anything else."

"Certainly you may. I shall always be very glad to
see you, and so will my brother Charlie be. We have

DUAL PERSONALITY 77

often discussed you since that first time you've been
here — the time of the snow storm."

"Thank you sincerely. I shall certainly be here to
see you before so very long. I must be going now.
Good-day."

"Good-day, Mr. Name."

"Golly, but she's a peach: I believe I could enjoy
life with that girl in this country. My! but I got warm
under my vest when she looked into my eyes like that.
I wonder what my share of the pile amounts to by this
time. rU have to ask Uncle."

And with that I remembered the Kid. I also was
building air-castles now, — only of a different nature.

CHAPTER XI

T MADE regular calls on Miss Bristow after this.

Many a pleasant stroll we had up and down the gulch
while her brother was trying to locate a better claim.
During the week I worked like a slave, Miss Bristow's
friendship for me acting as a stimulus far beyond what
the mere lust for gold could have done.

Sometimes when I thought of my doubtful position,
and the bearing it might have on my future, I became
gloomy and morose, resenting all kindly interference by
my friends, in short and snappy answers. I even felt
sometimes as though I could curse scwneone or some-
thing for being the cause of my mental state.

"What's the matter with you, Los?" inquired Uncle
of me one morning, as I showed a particularly resentful
and morose spirit. "You're not at all anymore the boy
you used to be, since you've gone dzSy on that girl. Did
you have a fight and get the g. b. — or has the Angel
taken flight and gone to Heaven ? You look as gloomy
and down and out in the mouth as though you had been
chief mourner at a funeral. Come, brush up, brush up.
Be like you. always used to be."

"Uncle, I'm not gloomy, morose, or down in the
mouth on account of anything either one of you have
done against me. You have all been the very best of
friends to me ; the truest I've ever had, probably. But
there's something else on my mind that gives me con-
siderable food for reflection. Some day I may tell you,
not now. I'm not on the outs with the girl, eidier.
We are the very best of friends."

The following Sunday morning, I made my usual
weekly call on Miss Bristow. When I arrived, I found

DUAL PERSONALITY 79

her putting the cabin in order, whilst her brother was
making preparations for his usual Sunday perambula-
tions. They both greeted me affectionately.

"I see, I happen to be just in time before your usual
Sunday stroll," I addressed the brother.

"Yes, five minutes later would have missed me,"
Bristow answered. "However, I think Sis will be
able to entertain you in my absence."

"Don't stay away so late, Charlie. I don't think it's
right for you to be out like this every Sunday. After a
while you'll lose all respect for the Sabbath," Miss Bris-
tow interposed.

"I know, but then we don't intend to live all our
lives in this forsaken country. So don't worry, Sis ; I
won't stay late today. So long. Good-bye, Mr.
Name."

"Good-bye, Mr. Bristow. Isn't this a lovely day.
Miss Bristow ? What do you say to taking a walk this
morning? It's almost too nice to stay in the house."

"Why yes, I was just on the point of proposing it.
There's a nice shady spot up the stream a piece way. We
might take a stroll up there. A walk will do me good."

"By the way. Miss Bristow, do you believe in
dreams?" I asked her while she was continuing her
housework.

"Indeed, I don't know. My aunt used to say,
dreams never came true; I'm sure mine don't, at least.
Why do you ask? Are you troubled with bad dreams,
Mr. Name?"

"No, on the contrary, I had a real pleasant one; the
bad feature about it is, I can't put it together. If I
could, — ^well, it makes no difference I suppose. I'll tell
you. About two weeks ago one night, a beautiful vision
appeared to me; — remember, I'm only telling you as I
seem to remember it, — ^well, this vision had thick, long
golden hair, like yours. On her head, she wore a dia-

8o STORIES OF THE OCCULT

dem beset with various precious stones, which emitted
sparks of fire as she turned her head. She was dressed
in a long, flowing, white robe, — dazzling white, — tied
with a blue girdle around her waist. She called me her
'dear boy, and I thought she stroked my forehead and
temples with her beautiful white hand. Every time she
touched my forehead it appeared as though she removed
a thin veil like a cob-web, and my memory seemed to
clear. She called me by name, and said, *Jim, why are
you so sad? Why are you out here in this faraway,*
cold country ; faraway from your loved ones who have
been waiting, waiting for you for so long? The time
is at hand my dear boy; go home, you are wanted.*
And then I thought I asked her who she was, and she
said, *your Mother, — ^your guardian Angel, who has
shielded you all these years ;* and then she took my face
between her hands and kissed me. And I remember
having asked her, * Mother, whither must I go to find
them? I am lost, lost to everybody; I don't know
where to look for them.' I remember distinctly she
told me who I was and where I came from, but I can't
recollect any more. And then I dreamed she took me
by the hand, and together we took a long journey over
high mountains, deep valleys, and beautiful lakes and
rivers. We finally arrived in a beautiful little valley,
surrounded by beautiful, green mountains and silvery
streams flowing through it. She pointed to a modest
little house with a nice little yard in front, in which all
kinds of beautiful flowers were blooming. *This is
your home,' she said. 'You'll find your loved ones
inside, my boy; they are thinking of you.' With that
she gave me another kiss and, she was gone. That is
all I remember: — the most beautiful dream I've ever
had. The house, the little yard with its blooming flow-
ers; — all that I can see distinctly; but where it is, —
that's the rub. There may, and there may not exist

DUAL PERSONALITY 8i

such a place. Even my name I can't recall. The re-
membrance of that would make everything easy. Some-
times I think I have it, then, just as I am on the point
of grasping it, psss! like a will-o-the-wisp, it's gone. It
reminds me of trjring to recall a word or name. When
you think you have it on your tongue, it skidoos, and
you can't recall it to save your soul."

"Dreams are wonderful things, Mr. Name, and I
don't believe anybody knows the true psychological cause
or effect of them. What you saw in your dream may
be a true picture of a part of your former history;
still, it may be but a phantasm due to a disordered
stomach, meaning nothing. If it is the former, I be-
lieve it will be revealed to you in a more lucid way
some day; if the latter, nothing will ever come of it. I
would not be cast down on account of it; I'd just let
things take their course."

"Your talk is both reasonable and logical. Miss Bris-
tow; still, you cannot feel about it like I do. I am
always, more or less restricted in my actions, even as to
planning them. There is always that paramount thought
in my mind that something may turn up imexpectedly,
placing me in a very embarrassing position. I assure
you it is not a very pleasant picture to look at when
you begin to size it up from the four comers."

"I admit all that. But then sizing it up from the
four comers, as you say, why must you worry your soul
about something you are not the cause of; or at least,
something you are unable to alter. I believe all things
turn out for our good, eventually. They say we shape
our own destiny. That may be, but all the theologians
in the world cannot make me believe that there is not
something back to shape that destiny, down to its
minutest detail. Insignificant little things or acts that
are forgotten the moment after, sometimes lead to
momentous events. Why were you in that particular

82 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

car, on that particular time when there were probably
dozens of others for you to creep in. There certainly
was a cause for it. Had you foreknown the results, you
no doubt would have modified or changed your course,
and your soul might be by this time calm and serene.
Therefore, I can't see why you shouldn't be allowed to
act as though nothing stood in your way."

This opinion, coming from Miss Bristow especially,
did much to allay my doubts and fears, although know-
ing the sentiments she entertained for me, I could npt
conscientiously accept it as an impartial opinion. Not
that I doubted her loyalty to her own convictions, yet
I had not been slow to read in her eyes the secret that
her maidenly modesty would have prevented her from
telling me in words. The subject under discussion was
sharply brought to a halt by a new factor appearing on
the scene; one of such far reaching results to both of
us that it prevented it from ever being brought up
again.

CHAPTER XII

I^ISS BRISTOW was standing against the table,
facing the door, which stood open, thus giving her
a good view down the gulch to the south. I was to a
side and back of the door, sitting on the rude chair
formerly mentioned, with its back tilted against the
partition separating another apartment, the sleeping
room, from the kitchen and dining room which we were
occupying. My position prevented me from seeing what
was going on outside. Miss Bristow had been so ab-
sorbed in her attention to my narrative of my dream
that it was rather by accident that she happened to look
down the gulch.

"What is it. Miss Bristow?" I asked noticing the
sudden paleness of her face.

She came over to me in an apparently unconcerned
way.

"Mr. Name, I want you to slip into that room as
quickly as possible and be on guard for any emergency.
You can watch through that knot-hole near the door
and see what's going on."

"Why, what's the danger, Miss Bristow? What — "

"Hurry get in. You shall see. There's no time to
explain now. Later on I will," pushing me in and
closing the door at the same time.

I got into the room not a moment too soon. I heard
someone coming up on the outside, whistling "Annie
Rooney" as though he wanted everyone, and someone
in particular to know that he was around, and that
what he whistled, and the way he whistled it, had a
certain meaning back of it which a certain particular
party understood. I had a faint idea of what all this
might portend as I took my station behind the partition,

84 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

revolver in hand, watching the proceedings through a
chink between the boards. Presently I saw a handsome
young fellow, of medium build, black, curly hair and a
small black moustache, enter the cabin. In his hand he
carried a rifle, and two pistols stuck in his holsters;
well armed to meet — a woman.

"How d'do, Lucy?" he greeted Miss Bristow as he
slightly staggered, with a swagger, into the room.

"I thought you had returned to Dawson," Miss Bris-
tow responded.

"No Ma'am. Couldn't leave without my darling.
Too lonesome without you down there. Won't you
shake hands with me this morning, Duckie ?" He held
out his smiall, well-shaped hand. "No? My, but that's
a cool reception for your most affectionate lovey-dovey."

"Jim, why can't you go back and leave me alone. I
told you long ago it was all over between us. It will
not do you any good to persist in following me."

"Where is your brother this fine morning?"

Knowing she had a staunch protector at hand, the
girl was not averse to telling him the truth.

"My brother is out somewhere, but you must not
think you can take advantage of me during his absence ;
besides, he might return and make it very unpleasant
for you. You remember the warning he gave you be-
fore we left Dawson."

"That much for his warning," snapping his fingers
in contempt. "I gave him all the show he wanted. If
he'd *a' been a man, he'd *a' stuck to Dawson, and not
carried you up here out of reach of your lover."

"My brother didn't bring me up here out of fear of
you, but rather to avoid trouble. We will not move
again on account of you, please remember that. Take
my advice and go back to Dawson."

"I'll be the judge of that myself, dearest. I didn't
come here this morning for your advice, but for your

DUAL PERSONALITY 8s

answer you promised to give me the other day."

"Well, you may as well know at once that my answer
is as it always has been : — No. Had you acted like a
man, as I used to know you at first, things would be
different between us; but I could never ally myself to
a gambler and a desperado such as you. Once more I
advise you to leave me alone, and go back to Dawson."

"Are you sure it is, *No?' People have been per-
suaded to change their minds before this."

"Mine will never be," she answered determinedly.

Her pistol was lying on the table out of immediate
reach.

"Why had she been so negligent as not to secrete it
in her dress?" She gave a quick, appealing glance to-
ward it, which he couldn't fail to notice. They stood
confronting each other like two pugilists, each watching
the other for an opening.

"Lucy, I warn you not to make a move for that pis-
tol," he said making a threatening move toward her,
shaking his fist.

"And I warn you not to touch me, if you value your
life," she answered, with flashing eyes, her bosom heav-
ing with excitement.

"What'll you do? There's nobody within reach out-
side of your brother, this side of Dawson."

"My brother will come if I call."

"You better not attempt it, Lucy. Besides, your
brother is way up the stream, and out of reach of your
voice. Oh, I investigated before I came here," he said
as she gave him a questioning, half doubting look.

"I'm going to take you along back to Dawson, and
I'll give you just five minutes to get ready. If you'll
not gp with me peaceably, I'll take you by force. I'll
not be balked any longer. You've played the fool with
me long enough."

Miss Bristow hardly knew what to do in her ex-

t
I

86 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

tremity. She feared the consequences if it became neces-
sary for me to show myself. The man was drunk and
desperate, and would stop at nothing. She begged and
entreated him to leave her and depart in peace. Perhaps
he thought she was at his mercy, alone and defenseless;
or perhaps, that she was only parleying to gain time.
Whatever he thought, he ripped out an oath and made a
threatening move toward her.

"Back! back! I say. Don't you dare to put your
hand on mie," she cried, her whole body trembling with
emotion.

At the same instant he heard a slight noise in the
other room, which checked him in his mad desire.

"What was that noise?" he asked fiercely, drawing
one of his pistols. "Lucy, if you play me one of your
tricks, rU — ^teach you," he said significantly tapping his
revolver.

Miss Bristow moved adroitly, so as to get her old
lover between herself and the door, behind which I was
concealed. He was taken completely off his guard for
an instant. He saw her object in doing so, immediately
after. Too late. He was trapped.

"Hands up!" I called in a clear strong voice back
of hioL

He glanced hurriedly around to meet my eyes, a com-
plete stranger, with a smile on my face, and a re-
volver in each hand.

"Who the deuce are you?"

"Hands up, I say. No matter who I am," I answer-
ed.

This time there was no hesitancy in complying with
the command. His hands shot up straight as a stick.

"Miss Bristow, please relieve our guest of his toys
before he hurts himself. 'Didn't know it was loaded,'
you know," I said addressing the last words to the
desperado, significantly.

DUAL PERSONALITY Sj

To be disanned by a woman, was almost more than
the ruffian could stand. However, he gulped down his
resentment, with a contemptuous look toward nle
which spoke more than it was policy for him to express
at the time.

"Now, my yoimg gallant," I continued after he was
disarmed, "next time you are ordered by your superiors
to raise your hands, don't wait for the second bidding.
It was only through my indulgence, and for the fact that
you are an inexperienced boy that you escaped being
killed, ril warn you that TU stand for no fooling or
treachery on your part."

"Who the deuce are you that you presume to interfere
in my private affairs with this young lady?" he hotly
asked.

"Who am I ? Well, that's a question I can't answer
myself ; and I dare say I've asked it a thousand and one
times. I may call myself a new-comer on the scene, and
at present pose as a friend and protector to this young
lady, against such cowardly, drunken loafers as you."

"If I had my gun, you wouldn't dare to talk to me
like that. Only a coward talks like that to an unarmed
foe."

"Yes, for instance, you, when you had Miss Bris-
tow at a disadvantage a moment ago. But we will not
argue about cowards or heroes. I am going to give you
a bit of advice for your general health. In the first
place. Miss Bristow is not going with you; secondly,
she desired you to leave her alone. She informed you
that she will have nothing furthermore to do with you ;
and thirdly, she askes you to go away from here and
stay away. Well, I'm not going to ask that of you.
I'm gping to return to you one of your guns, because
I don't like to send you away from here without some
means of defense; and then I want you to make tracks
for Dawson at double quick pace. If I see 3rou lurking

88 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

around here five minutes after you leave this cabin, 111
plug you full of holes. Miss Bristow, hand me one of
his guns. Here it is,*' I said passing it over. ''Now, no
treachery, young man. If you practice any of your
marksmanship on me, I have friends near here who'll
follow you to the ends of the earth. Now be gone."

The fellow slunk away like a coyote, threatening dire
vengeance under his breath. In a few minutes he was
lost to view.

"Mr. Name, I think you did a very unwise thing in
returning his gun."

"Miss Bristow, the man was drunk when he came
here, or he might have acted difiEerently. He appears to
be pretty well scared and that will help to counteract
the whiskey. I don't think you need fear him any
more."

"He is a bad man, Mr. Name, and not to be trust-
ed."

"I don't think he'll play any treachery. He's too
much of a coward, especially since he knows there's
an additional party on the scene."

I always gauged other people by my own honesty,
and there is where I made a sad mistake in the present
case.

"Let us talk about something else, and take that
intended stroll up the gulch."

We walked up the stream, arm in arm. She tried to
be gay, yet, with all her efforts she could not entirely
rid her mind of the incidents of the morning and the
possible future circumstances it might lead to.

"If it wasn't for that man, I think I'd be perfectly
happy, Mr. Name. But try as I will, I cannot dispel
the cloud that seems to be hanging over me."

"Pardon my curiosity. Miss Bristow, but would you
mind telling me who he is?"

"Not in the least, you remember my telling you

DUAL PERSONALITY 89

sometime ago, I might some day tell you the reason for
our moving up here. Well, he was the cause. I know
him for the last three years, becoming ecquainted with
him down at Dawson. As long as he was poor and
working hard, he kept sober and industrious, always act-
ing like a perfect gentleman. Our acquaintance soon
ripened into friendship, and that into love, followed by
an engagement. One day he found himself suddenly
rich. The sudden prosperity proved too much for him.
From a nice, quiet, modest young fellow he gradually
turned to gambling and drinking, squandering every-
thing he had, and turning into a regular bully and
tough. Of course, I broke the engagement, whereupon
he threatened to shoot me. To avoid trouble we left
Dawson and moved up here. He was here the other
day, and to stave him off, I promised to give him his
answer to-day. The rest you know."

"Didn't you tell your brother about it?"

"No, I was afraid to do so. My brother would shoot
him on sight. He promised to do so if he'd ever follow
us. You don't know Charlie yet."

"You should tell him as a precaution to yourself.
Besides, he has a right to know as your natural pro-
tector. What is the fellow's name?"

"His name is Brown, — ^Jim Brown. I think I will
tell my brother to-night," she answered. "I am not at
all afraid when someone is with me, but I don't like to
stay alone after this."

By this time we had arrived at the spot designated
by Miss Bristow in a previous chapter, seating ourselves
on the bough of a big tree that had been leveled by some
preceding storm. For a while neither had anything
to say, each one absorbed in his or her own thoughts,
both listening to the musical sound of the water as it
gurgled its way through the rocks that obstructed its
course. All the di£Ferent emotions of a lover passed

90 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

through mc. My mind which was usually so active
and resourceful under other circumstances, positively
refused to act. Several tiroes I was on the point of
addressing her, but the words refused to shape them-
selves.

"What makes you so quiet, Mr. Name?" she asked
me.

Her words startled me. It seemed to me as though
I had been suddenly transported back from some far-
away place, to my present condition.

"Oh, nothing, I was just thinking," I answered. "By
the way. Miss Bristow, you said sometime ago you wish-
ed we were all back in the states again."

"Yes, it is too lonely up here, and nothing to be
gained after all. And what does it amount to if you
do gain what you are after."

"And would you have any consideration — I mean^
could you take enough interest in such a rough, ignorant
fellow as I am, as to place your trust — "

Here I stopped short as I realized my position. What
right had I, such a complete nonentity as I considered
myself to be, to try to make an alliance with this pure,
whole-souled girl, an alliance that might prove very
embarrassing to me later on.

"Why, what's the matter, Mr. Name. Why don't
you — finish what you wanted to say?" she said watching
me curiously.

"Miss Bristow, perhaps you do not realize as well
as I do the" — what else I was going to say I never after-
wards remembered myself. At that moment two shots
rang out in rapid succession.

"Oh, oh! I'm shot." With those words, the last
she ever uttered, she sank down on the ground.

CHAPTER XIII

T WAS rudely jarred out of my melancholy and pessi-

mistic state of mind by the two shots and their dire
consequence. I hurriedly looked up in the direction
from whence they had come, just in time to see the last
remaining dim cloud of smoke before it was dispelled
by the breeze. I also thought I detected a patch of
bright red, and to my dismay I remembered that Miss
Bristow*s discarded lover wore a flannel shirt of the
same color. I quickly emptied my revolver in the direc-
tion I thought I saw this red spot, with what success, I
couldn't tell. I next gave my attention to Miss Bris-
tow, vainly examining her for slight signs of life. Once
I thought I detected the faintest sign as I pressed my
ear over her heart. I ran to the brook for water to
bathe her forehead and temples. I called her by name,
by all the endearing words I could think of. I realized
at last, against my own will, that her lips were sealed
forever. This realization brought anguish of the most
bitter kind. I cursed the murderer to the lowest depths
of perdition; I felt as though I could curse myself for
my negligence in arming the murderer before I sent him
away. I could not but blame myself as being the prime
cause of the crime ; and lastly, I cursed my fate.

"My life is becoming more unbearable every day.
Everything I do or undertake to do, turns itself into a
dagger against my heart; everything but gold; — and
even that, no doubt is only accumulating to cause my
final ruin."

At this moment I heard someone running down the
gulch. It was her brother, who had heard the firing and
had come to investigate its cause. He saw what was
wrong as he approached.

"What is it?" he sternly asked. "Who did it?"

92 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

"Oh, Mr. Bristow, your sister is shot — ^killed."

"Did you do it?" he asked me in calm, measured
words as he fixed his penetrating eyes on me.

"Mr. Bristow, how can you ask me such a question?
Your sister was nearer and dearer than my own life
to me. Did I do it? Do I look like a murderer?"
I asked as the true signifiance of the words dawned on
my mind. "Let me explain certain things to you of
which you are ignorant, and then let us act — act quick-
ly. Your sister had a lover down at Dawson whom she
discarded, and on account of whom you took her away
from there and came up here."

"Yes, how do you know?"

"Never mind how I know. He was here the other
day and wanted to renew the engagement ; he was here
this morning, and it was due to my presence that he
didn't kill her in the cabin. He followed us secretly
up here, and no doubt is your sister's murderer. Let us
take your sister's body down to the cabin and then I
will hasten after him."

"That duty belongs to me, her brother. I will
avenge her — alone."

"By the right of a brother you have that privilege.
By the right of a friendship as close as a brother, I
demand the right of accompanying you. Don't be
selfish in this case, Mr. Bristow," I declared.

Bristow! reached out his hand across the dead body
of his sister and grasped that of mine saying, "So be
It then. Forgive me, Los. Together, we will follow
him to the ends of the earth if necessary. May Grod
have mercy on his soul, when we catch him."

"Amen," I answered solemnly.

Brother and lover, we carried the body of the dead
girl in silence to the cabin.

"We will bury her when we come back," Bristow
said, as we entered the cabin with her, tears running

DUAL PERSONALITY 93

down his cheeks, his body trembling under the excite-
ment.

I was calm and collected, with a determination on my
face that boded ill for someone. One after the other I
examined and loaded my weapons.

"I am ready," I said in a low voice. "Let us go
back to the spot from where the crime was committed."

We proceeded in silence to the place.

"Here, I think, is the place where he fired the shots
from," I declared, after I had taken my bearings. "Now
look sharp, Bristow, — see if we can discover any traces
of him. Ah, here is a little twig, shot off by one of the
bullets, — ^and here are several leaves punctured. Now
to discover his tracks."

Both of us had a fair knowledge of wood-craft, and
the ground where we were, being soft and free from
stones, we had no trouble in discovering his foot-prints.
The tracks showed the murderer to have taken long
strides, as though running, and at first ran at right
angles to the direction of the gulch, afterwards describ-
ing a half circle and running parallel to the side of the
mountain in a southwesterly direction.

"Where do you think he'll make for?" I asked.

"To Dawson, without a doubt," Bristow answered.
"And in my opinion he'll follow the water-course.
We'll have to be strictly on our guard, Los. He is a
dangerous man. How many weapons has he?"

"One, only one," I answered. "He has the advant-
age over us in one respect. We have to come out in
the open, and he won't."

"I don't think that counts much in his favor. But
where I think the advantage comes to him, is in the
time we lose in finding the trail."

"That's the main difficulty against us," I answered,
"and right here is where we lose him," I continued,
coming to a place covered with stones as far as we

94 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

could see. "He'll take advantage of this, and may
change his course."

"That's so. Let's walk around it until we dis-
cover it again."

We lost several hours, vainly seeking for traces of
the lost trail. We finally gave up in disappointment,
returning to the stream and following its course.

"He'll not take any rest tonight," Bristow remarked
that evening as it became dusk.

"Neither will we. We've lost too much time al-
ready. Tomorrow morning we may discover the trail
again. I'm sorry we lost all that time running around
amongst those rocks," I answered.

All that night we continued after the fugitive, now
running, now walking, until it seemed as though our
strength could not hold out much longer. Bristow had
hurriedly prepared a little lunch before we had started
in pursuit, which we now sat down to eat, as the dawn
appeared over the mountains. After a hurried break-
fast we resumed our man-hunt, like two blood hounds.
All day we kept it up. Suddenly, toward evening, I
stopped short and proceeded to examine the ground.
Bristow, who was slightly ahead of me turned round
on me, calling me.

"Did you find it?" he asked eagerly.

"Looks like it, don't it?" I answered as I pointed to
the faint foot-print on the ground.

"Thank God for it," Bristow exclaimed, tears fill-
ing his eyes.

"Our chances for capturing him are brighter again,"
said I.

"Our chances! Chance does not cut any figure, —
at least it shall not in this case. His fate is sealed as
sure as we two are standing under these tall pines.
It is only a matter of time. I shall track him to the
farthest corner of the earth. I will kill him should I

DUAL PERSONALITY 95

find him before the altar of the church," Bristow re-
plied vehemently.

All that day we kept hot on the trail, losing ant
finding it alternately, never lagging a step, keeping up
our strength and courage by will-power. Until after
midnight we kept on. We were both very tired and
Bristow advised taking rest. We laid down under a
huge tree, he to snatch a few hours sleep if possible, I
to summon my occult power to our assistance in run-
ning down and overtaking the murderer.

For a long time, as it seemed to me, my agitated
mind inhibited me from plac^g myself into that nega-
tive condition whereby I derived the power of receiving
those mystic revelations. Not without a great effort
did I finally succeed in excluding all conscious thought
from my Objective Mind.

The vision came; one of the most realistic I had
had up to that time. Yet it was not what I had hoped
for and expected. What I saw was again the truth,
verified to me several years later.

My soul was again transported into that far distant,
beautiful, verdant valley surrounded by those dark blue
mountains. I saw a large barn and farmhouse stand-
ing alone and solitary in a large grassy field, in from
the main highway, connected to it by a narrow lane. I
saw the inside of the barn, the cattle and horses in their
stalls, some lying down in peaceful rest. From there I
was transported to the hay mows over their heads.
Presently I saw a spark of fire on one of the mows. At
first it was no bigger than the first flare of a match
after striking. It grew as large as a man's hand, rap-
idly spreading out in all directions, consuming and feed-
ing upon the newly-made hay. It grew very angry,
appearing to feed upon itself as it licked the rafters and
shingles of the roof. It soon had eaten itself through.
The access of the air gave fresh impetus to its fury.
Presently, almost in a twinkling, I saw men and boys

96 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

come running from all directions. Clairaudicntly, I
heard their shouts. The whole upper story of the barn
was by this time a living, licking mass of flames, send-
ing their sparks and cinders high toward heaven. The
whole surrounding sky was lit up, reminding me of the
Aurora Borealis whidi I had seen so often in this far
northern country.

I saw them taking the horses and cattle out, some of
which were timid and afraid, refusing to budge, and
which had to be carried out bodily, almost. Others
were wild and frenzied vainly tugging at their chains
in their efforts to escape the inferno. Some of them I
saw buried alive under the debris of burning joists and
hay as it fell upon them.

The fire had burned its fury. I was taken to a room
in the house. In that room I saw a man all by himself,
lonesome and dejected, seated in a huge rocking chair,
his face buried in his hands. Presently he looked up.
I recognized his features. They were those of the man
I had seen in a previous vision, where he had assaulted
that sad-faced woman and where in her struggles with
him she was thrown against the stove. The expression
on his face had changed greatly. On it I saw unmis-
takable lines of sorrow and repentance. His eyes be-
came riveted on the wall of the room as though held by
fascination. And as I followed his gaze, I saw written
upon that wall in huge capital letters the word : RET-
RIBUTION.

I saw the man get out of his chair, a desperate ex-
pression on his face. I followed him ascending the attic
stairway. I saw him walk to the further end and take
down a thin, strong rope which was hanging on a spike,
driven into one of the rafters. He next tied the rope
to one of the rafters and at the other end he made a slip
noose. This he slipped over his head and then kicked
away the box on which he had been standing. I saw
him struggle violently and make vain efforts to undo

DUAL PERSONALITY 97

the knot which grew tighter and tighter as he struggled.

Bristow's voice called me back to consciousness. The
dawn was breaking over the mountains. Again we dis-
covered the trail, which became more distinct as we
proceeded. We exercised more caution now, not know-
ing when we might come upon the quarry. We follow-
ed the trail probably two miles or more, when happening
to look slightly to the right of me, I almost gave vent
to a loud exclamation of surprise, at the same time
clutching Bristow by the arm to draw his attention to
what I saw.

Bristow's rifle went up in a second.

"For God*s sake, don't shoot," I whispered, grabbing
hold of his barrel. "That would be too easy a death
for him. Let him know who his executioners are. It
will give him comfort on the other side."

"You are right Los. It would be too easy for him."

Not more than a hundred feet away lay Brown,
stretched out full length, sound asleep, unconsdous of
the doom awaiting. His body was partly concealed by
the underbrush, his red shirt alone showing conspicu-
ously through it. Fatigue alone must have induced him
to sleep so soundly and so long. Not more than ten
feet away from where he lay were to be seen the charred
sticks of a fire which he had no doubt kindled the night
before.

A plan of action was immediately decided upon by
Bristow and myself.

To the left of us lay the trunk of a huge tree that
had been torn up by its roots.

"Bristow, I have a plan," I said as the fallen monarch
reminded me of the one further above, where Miss Bris-
tow and I had been sitting when she was so cruelly
shot.

It was a fatal coincidence, that a fallen tree was to
play such an important part in each case — the taking of
a human life.

98 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

"You get behind the trunk of that tree, whilst I will
make a detour opposite to you, so as to get him between
us. When I give you the signal, you fire into the air
and arouse him from his peaceful slumbers. TU be
near enough to him to make sure of my aim. He will be
attracted by the smoke of your rifle. Keep down behind
the tree, out of danger of his gun. FU call upon him to
surrender. Should he show any signs of stubbornness,
ril wing him in his gun arm. We want to take him
alive by all means. Should my plans by any chance
miscarry, show him no mercy. You understand ?"

,"Yes, go ahead, before he wakes up."

It took me but a moment to tip-toe to my station, in
the meantime Bristow taking his place behind the fallen
tree. When we were both ready, I gave a vigorous nod
of the head as a signal for Bristow to shoot.

Bang ! Like a hounded deer, surprised out of his lair,
with one leap Brown jumped to his feet, at the same
time jumping aside and drawing his gun. He cast a
frightened, hurried glance around, as he immcjdiately
saw the smoke of Bristow's rifle curling above the
fallen tree. Holding his gun in readiness, he advanced,
at the same time calling on the person who fired the
shot, to surrender or take the consequence. But another
surprise was in store for him. Sharp and clear came the
word back of him :

"Surrender!"

Turning around sharply, like some animal brought
to bay, he found himself staring into my rifle.

"Surrender ! — and be quick about it," again came the
sharp command from me.

"You go to He—"

Crash! went the bullet through his right shoulder,
the arm falling limply to his side, the gun to the
ground.

"I told you once before not to hesitate when your su-

DUAL PERSONALITY 99

perior commanded you to surrender. You know the
result now, don't you ?" I said as I walked up to him.

"Cowards! both of you/' Brown hissed between his
teeth. **I always thought you were a gentleman," he
continued, addressing Bristow.

"We will not discuss that question now. We fol-
lowed you to pass judgment on a more important ques-
tion," Bristow answered.

"I didn't do it, Charlie. As God is my judge, I
didn't."

"What didn't you do?" I asked him.

*Why, Charlie's sister. I mean I didn't shoot her.
God knows I didn't. I wasn't near — "

"Why, you degenerate, who told you she was shot?"

"D-d-didn't y-you j-j-just a-a-c-cuse m-m-me o-of it?"
Brown stammered, realizing how he was caught in his
own trap

"We did nothing of the kind, but since you plead
guilty we will proceed with the sentence and execu-
tion. You will have ten minutes time to prepare for
the hereafter, after which you will be your own execu-
tioner, with your own gun — the gun you shot Miss
Bristow with," I replied.

Brown fairly collapsed, vainly looking around for
some means of escape, as I solemnly but sternly pro-
nounced his doom.

After committing the crime, while still a fugitive, he
began to realize the enormity of his oflEense as his brain
cleared from the effects of the whisky ; and now, as he
looked into the determined faces of her avengers, he
realized it still more fully. He pleaded his drunken
state he was in, as an extenuation of his crime. He
cursed, us his two enemies, and his fate, alternately;
then again he begged for mercy.

"Mercy! You ask for mercy? Would you have
shown mercy to that poor, defenseless girl, when you

822G20

loo STORIES OF THE OCCULT

thought her alone in her cabin the other morning, and
finally, after I gave you back one of your guns as a
means of defense on your way back to Dawson, you
betrayed that confidence and charity on my part, and
followed us up the gulch and shot her in cold blood;
did you think of mercy then? You want to blame
whisky for your crime now, since you are caught.
Brown, did you ever hear of a man to say, that whisky
induced him to commit a good deed ? No, whenever a
man commits a crime, he lays the blame on whisky. Do
you think whisky is intelligent enough to distinguish
between right and wrong, and that it will always impel
a man to do wrong without once in a while impelling
him to do good? No, whisky stimulates the mind to
better reasoning powers, or else puts him out of busi-
ness altogether.

"Your excuse won't go with us, you coward. You
miserable drunken sot ! You murderer ! I have half a
mind to carve your miserable heart out to see what it
looks like.'*

I had by this time worked myself into such a fury,
that it was all I could do to restrain myself from beat-
ing the murderer's face to a jelly, defenseless though
he was.

"You have yet two minutes time. Brown. If you
have any prayers to say, say them, and be quick about

It."

The prisoner was a pitiable object as he stood there
between his two judges and executioners. Large beads
of perspiration gathered on his forehead; his face ap-
peared as though it was cut out of marble. His knees,
refusing to bear him any longer, he sank down on the
ground, his head bowed down between his knees, his
heart over-flowing with remorse. I grabbed him by
his wounded shoulder and sternly ordered him on his
feet, which he did howling with pain.

DUAL PERSONALITY loi

"Give me his gun, Charlie. — With this gun you
murdered the girl and with it you'll send yourself to
eternity. Don't think we're fools Brown," I said, no-
ticing a gleam of hope in the prisoner's eyes. "You'll
only pull the trigger. I'll hold the gvin."

"Have you anything more to say. Brown?" Bris-
tow asked him.

The prisoner shook his head, meaning thereby that
he had not.

"Now then, be as brave as you were when you shot
the girl," I said as I held the barrel of the revolver di-
rectly over Brown's heart.

"Now Brown, whenever you are ready, push the
trigger, and don't be too long about it or we might
urge you."

Slowly, Brown's arm reached out, his thumb finally
on the trigger. A muffled sound, like a peal of distant
thunder, and Brown sank to the ground. A few
spasms, and all was over.

"Now we are ready to return," Bristow remarked
quietly.

"Not yet," I answered. "We have to bury him."

"Let the wolves take care of that," Bristow sug-
gested.

"Charlie, we are no savages, although we took savage
vengeance. We owe it to decency to cover his body in
some way. I am not suggesting it out of any compuncti-
ous feelings."

"Well, I guess you are right, Los. Let's cover him
with stones."

It took us but a few moments to cover Brown's body
with a pile of stones, after which we started on our
homeward march.

"We still have one sad duty to performi after we
return: The burial of your sister," I remarked. "I
wish I could undo one act in this sad affair."

"What is that, Los?" Charlie asked.

102 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

"The handing over to him that gun of his. Things
might be altogether different then. But I suppose what
is, was to be. Sometimes, Charlie, I almost believe in
predestination."

"I don't," Charlie answered firmly. "I don't be-
lieve the Lord wanted him to kill my poor sister. If
that should be the case, then we are murderers. No
Los, it was his own degenerate soul that impelled him
to do it ; — ^and jealousy."

"And who gave him his degenerate soul ?" I asked.

"Whisky; — gold; — ^the gaming table. Oh, I saw
him gradually go down, down, down — ^until the mael-
strom sucked him: in."

"We think, those were the causes. Perhaps they
were. I don't know," I answered, as though talking
to myself. "But if I had to do it again, I'd have de-
tained him until your return to the cabin, and then we
would have decided what to do with him."

"I sincerely wish you had ; then I would have killed
him in a square fight. He knew what to expect from
me. I warned him before we left Dawson. But don't
worry about that which you couldn't prevent."

On our return journey, I told Bristow many things
concerning that Sunday morning, of which Bristow had
still been ignorant. It took us the greater part of three
days to complete the journey back. We were com-
pletely worn out. The soles on our shoes were gone,
our feet weary and sore. When we arrived at the
door of Bristow's cabin, we found the lock broken.
Bristow was the first to notice it.

"Was anyone with Brown when he was here?"

"Not that I know of," I answered.

"Perhaps Brown was innocent after all," Bristow
answered, as he compressed his lips, with a startled
expression on his face. "You know, he protested his
innocence to the last."

DUAL PERSONALITY 103

"No, he was the guilty one; we got, the right party,"
I replied. "I can swear I saw the red shirt disappear
in the bushes."

We opened the door and cautiously looked around
as we entered. Everything was as we had left it, even
her revolver was still lying on the table, where she had
laid it herself. I walked silently up to the corpse and
scrutinized it with tender emotions, tears, the first ones
since the tragedy, rolling down my cheeks. I sat down
beside the body and gave vent to uncontrollable grief,
bewailing my fate, and the innocent part I played in
the drama. Bristow's grief was of a diflFerent nature.
His was such that he would nourish a whole lifetime.
The fountains of his heart were dry. He had a stem,
stoic expression on his face as he stood there viewing
the body of his dead sister for the last time. He came
up to me and gently tapped me on the shoulder.
"Come Los, can we bury her yet to-night?"

"Yes, we can," I answered, as I gently stroked back
a few stray locks of her golden hair.

Bristow produced a pick and shovel, and together
we worked silently until we had excavated a hole
sufficiently deep to receive her body. When all was
ready, we wrapped her body in a white sheet, which
served both as a shroud and coffin, and lowered her into
the grave.

"Can you offer a prayer, Los?" Bristow asked of me.

"I'm a poor hand at praying, Bristow; the only pray-
er I remember anything about, is: *Now I lay me
down;' if you think that is appropriate," I answered,
questioningly, doubtful myself as to the prayer in
question being suitable for the occasion.

Bristow wasn't so sure about it himself, but urged
me to recite it, which I did. Afterward we silently
shoveled back the earth, each one offering his own
benediction.

CHAPTER XIV

TI RISTOW and I passed into his cabin. Everything
•^appeared changed — sad and lonesome. I am unable
to describe the desolate feeling that came stealing over
me. However it was no time to give in to our grief.
Bristow was seated on a chair, staring vacantly out
through the open door. It now remained for me to
console him.

"Bristow," I said, "w*hat do you intend to do?"

"God knows. I am unable to decide."

"Go with me," I said. "We have still room for one
more in our cabin. I am sure, after I have explained
the circumstances to my friends you will receive an
open-hearted welcome. You can leave your things here
for a few days after wiiich we will come for them. He
took my hand and pressed it fervently in silent recogni-
tion of the friendly offer. He secured the door and we
set out together for my home.

It was late that same night, the fifth day after I had
left to pay my last respects to Miss Bristow, when I
knocked at the door of our cabin.

"Who is out?" I heard the stern voice of Uncle in
answer to my knock.

"I, Los," I answered, clearly and distinctly.

I heard him stride up to the door in his heavy boots,
unlock and unbar the door. He opened it with a
sudden jerk with one hand, with the other he held his
revolver pointed toward me.

"Come in," he commanded sternly.

I entered, followed by Bristow, who had been stand-
ing in the dark, to a side, unseen by Uncle. His en-
trance behind me occasioned not a little surprise. I

104

DUAL PERSONALITY 105

looked around and noticed the coolness of my friends,
the Kid being the only one extending me any kind of a
welcome.

"Looks rather frigid for this time of the year," I
remarked casually. "What is wrong Uncle, has the
claim suddenly petered out, or has my prolonged ab-
sence created such a bad impression and such sour ex-
pressions on your faces ? Allow me to introduce to you
my friend, Mr. Bristow, whom I have urged to accept
of our hospitality in view of the sudden bereavement
that has fallen upon both him and me."

They showed a cool reserve to my friend. I con-
tinued :

"However, if we are considered as interlopers, and
unwelcome, we will leave. I should very much de-
sire though, to take along my share of the gold."

Uncle now thought it time to declare himself, and
at the same time to ask an explanation of me.

"Ahem," he made, clearing his throat. "Los, youVe *
been absent now close to a week. The third day af-
ter you had gone, and not seeing nor hearing anything
of you, I decided to do a little prospecting and find out
what was wrong. The first place I started out for was
the home of that young girl you'd been raving so much
about. Well, I found the girl all right, but I didn't
find you, nor her brother, and under the circumstances,
I had my suspicions aroused. Now, what Td like to
know is: — ^Where were you and her brother when that
gun was fired? — if you can explain."

I now understood their coolness toward me and my
friend; we were both accused of murder. Uncle had
preferred the charge in a very undiplomatic way. I
was very sensitive where my honor was concerned, and
a hot flush of anger mounted to my cheeks as I heard
this question addressed to me.

"So, you were the one who broke the lock on Bris-

io6 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

tow's dopr. I never thought you could be guilty of a
deed like that. Mr. Bristow put that lock on to safe-
guard his property and to protect his dead sister's body
from profanation."

"You mean to hide it, don't you?"

"Yes, but not out of fear. Mr. Bristow and I both
understand you, Uncle, and I am sorry that you had
such little confidence in me as to charge me with the
murder of that girl, who was nearer and dearer to me
than my own life. I will trouble you boys for my
share of the gold, and then Bristow and I will leave
for his own cabin."

"Not so fast, young fellow. We want to have an
explanation of that young lady's death before you leave
this cabin," said Uncle as his hand dropped down on his
gun.

"Well, you can go to perdition before I'll tell you,
and I defy you to stop me from leaving. What right
have you to appoint yourself judge and jury over this
affair, I'd like to know?" I replied hotly at the same
time making a threatening move.

Uncle, however, was too quick for me. I found
myself looking into the barrel of his gun.

"Los, I warn you to keep your hand off your gun. I
have a little experience in that line myself."

At this point, the Kid, fearing for the safety of either
one of us, jumped in between us.

"Uncle! Los! you are both at fault. Put down
your guns and talk this matter over amicably. Uncle
you shouldn't have talked the way you did; — and Los,
if you'd have kept down your temper a little every-
thing would be settled by this time and we'd all be
smoking the pipe of peace"

"My intention was to explain, but I wasn't given a
chance. I was simply declared guilty, right or wrong,"
I declared, secretly pleased at the Kid's timely interfer-

DUAL PERSONALITY 107

ence.

Mr. Bristow, who had thus far refrained from saying
anything now came forward and offered to resolve the
doubt they were laboring under.

"Gents, if you will permit me, a stranger, FU try
and give you an explanation of the whole, sad affair.
In the first place the murdered girl was my sister. In
the second, she was neither killed by Los nor by me,
but by an old enemy of ours who followed us from
Dawson on purpose for revenge. Los' long absence
was due to our following the murderer, whom we over-
took and settled accounts with. After that we re-
turned and buried my sister. My being here is entirely
due to Los' kind invitation. If I am in the way here,
I shall go back where I come from." '

The Kid looked significantly at Uncle at this sudden
vindication of my innocence. Uncle appeared ashamed
and confused, not being able to utter a word for several
moments. At last he found voice:

"Los, I've done you a great injustice, both before
and behind your back, and I ask your pardon in full.
The Kid was the only one who felt certain of your in-
nocence, and if I had listened to him this would never
have happened."

My generous nature impelled me to accept Unck's
apology. My right hand shot out spontaneously,
grasping that of Uncle's and giving it a hearty shake.

"Let us forget all about the incident. Uncle, and be
friends as before."

Bust and the Kid also came up and shook hands.

"Kid, you're all right, I'll never forget you," I said
as I held the boy's hand.

"And now pards," I continued, "I've brought my
friend along to share our hospitality. I thought prob-
ably you'd have no objections to him working with us
on shares."

io8 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

Each of the three was willing to agree to the proposi-
tion, and Bristow was welcomed as one of us. That
night Bristow and I had to go over every detail of the
crime, how we tracked the murderer and finally exe-
cuted him, after which Uncle gave a lucid description
of his hunt for me, his finding of the girl's body and the
suspicions and the wrong conclusions he was finally led
to.

"Boys, what is your idea of Los being gone for so
long," I asked Bust and the Kid here the third day
after you had left the cabin. The whole aflFair appears
mighty strange to me. Somehow or other he is in hot
water again."

" *rve been in fear for Los for several days. Uncle,
and I think it is about time for some of us to investi-
gate,' spoke the Kid.

" * Unless he is making love to that girl he has gone
luny over, ever since the snow storm. He is so far
gone on her, I have heard him talk about her in his
dreams.'

"Thus we talked about you in your absence Los. I
admit it wasn't very nice of us to do so.

"The fourth day came and found you still missing.
I started out early, not in the best of humor, thinking it
a waste of time to be trudging after you. I decided to
pay those neighbors a visit first of all, expecting to find
you there, making love to the girl, oblivious of the fact
that we were puzzled and worried over your prolonged
absence.

"From the description you had given us, I had a good
idea of where Mr. Bristow's cabin was located and had
no difficulty in finding it. Everything was quiet as I
approached it. Several times I stopped and listened, not
a sound greeted my ear. I noticed the shutters all closed
and on coming up to the door I found that locked,
whereupon I became suspicious. I gave a number of

DUAL PERSONALITY 109

heavy raps on the door, I hallooed, and finally turned
my attention to the shutters. They refused to yield. I
next walked up the gulch, thinking I might meet some-
one. All in vain. I returned to the cabin, determined
to know even if I had to break down the door.

" *It's mighty strange anyway. Los would never
act this way without good reason. I am sure this is the
place. If you aren't a fac-simile of the Flying Dutch-
man, rd like to know What else you are.' Thus I kept
on talking to myself, meanwhile pounding on the door.
*If you don't open the door in five minutes I'll burst
it,' I yelled.

"I found a suitable rock which I picked up and pro-
ceeded to batter the lock with, breaking it into pieces.
Opening the door part way I cautiously intruded my
head, doubtful of the reception that might be awaiting
me. After satisfying myself as to my safety, I opened
it wide and entered. The first thing I noticed was that
little revolver lying on the table.

"I picked it up and examined it. * Pretty little toy,*
I mused.

"I looked about and saw the girl lying peacefully on
the bunk.

" *Ah !' I laid down the revolver and backed toward
the door, watching her silently for several minutes.

" 'Is that the beauty? — ^Queer that she didn't hear my
racket.' I softly tiptoed over to where she lay, watching
her as a cat watches a mouse. I was ready at the least
sign of life to beat a hasty retreat. I was impressed as
I had never been by any woman I had ever seen. You
had not overdrawn your description of her. Even I,
with my hard, storm-weathered nature, could have
fallen in love with such a creature, I thought as I look-
ed down upon those gentle, immobile features.

"I noticed no signs of life, I became suspicious. Slow-
ly, I reached out my hand and with tfxc tip of my

no STORIES OF THE OCCULT

finger I barely touched her forehead. It felt icy, I
drew back in alarm. I ran to one of the shutters and
hastily unbarred it, pushing it wide open. A flood of
light streamed in upon her face.

^*I now made a more thorough examination, different
ideas assuming shape in my mind.

" 'Where is Los?' I thought. 'Where is her brother
Los had been telling about?'

"Opening her dress, I found the tiny hole the bullet
had made as it plowed its way through her body.

" 'My God, shot through the heart,' I said aloud.

"I hurriedly rearranged her dress, closed the shutter
and left the place, merely closing the door, the lock
being broken. I knew not what to think of it. Strange
and startling ideas filled my mind. I was worried
about you, Los. Your conduct during the last three
or four weeks had been decidedly queer, and yet you had
positively declared, on being pressed, that there was
nothing going wrong between you and the girl. The
more I reasoned, the more I tried to balance circum-
stances with facts; your figure invariably stood in the
back ground, and each time the cloud overhanging you
appeared larger.

" 'I do hope Los will return and will be able to ex-
plain. I do hope he will.'

"Bust and the Kid were impatiently awaiting my re-
turn, and plied me with questions, to all of which I
turned a deaf ear, stating that I wanted a little more
time to think. I told them however, that I had not seen
anything of you and that, that had to suffice until after
supper, when I would tell them all I had discovered and
also my suspicions. After supper was over and the
dishes cleared away, we all filled our pipes, and Bust
and the Kid assumed an attentive attitude.

" 'Now boys, I'm ready to tell you what I've seen
today. Perhaps after hearing my story, you may be

It f
n I-

DUAL PERSONALITY in

able to make head or tail out of it. I can't. But say
maybe that girl wasn't a beauty! I retract every word
I said about Los falling in love with her. She certainly
must have been a beaut.'

" *Must have been? Why what do you mean, Uncle,'
the Kid asked me.

" 'Now, just hold your tongue, Kid. You'll get
everything in good time — in good time.'

"Then I related to them the whole story just as I
have told it to you.

" *Now boys, the whole case seems mighty suspicious
to me. Who fired that shot? That's the important
question I'd like to have answered me.'

'You don't suspect Los, do you?' Bust asked.
I don't suspect anyone in particular as yet. But I
do hope Los can give an account of himself, that is —
if he ever returns. I tell you boys, it appears mighty
queer to me, for a man to forget all about himself —
who he is and where he comes from. Mighty queer, —
mighty queer.'

" 'Uncle you and Bust may both believe him guilty.
I won't,' said the Kid decidedly."

He and I had always been the staunchest of friends,
and he, for one, was not going to turn against me on
such flimsy, circumstantial evidence. Proof, indubit-
able proof, had to be furnished before he would turn
against me. He fully believed I would be able to give
a good account of all my actions during my absence.
The fact that the girl was murdered during my ab-
sence proved nothing, he told Uncle.

" 'Well but she had a brother who was working a
claim that was paying fairly well. What became of
him ? You don't suppose he killed her, do you ? Who
knows what became of their gold?'

" 'Now Uncle, you are jumping to conclusions. What
gold did they have, I'd like to know. Los told me him-

112 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

self their claim wasn't paying. You don't suppose he
murdered her brother, too, do you?'

" *See here Kid,' " I said. " *I am not accusing any-
one, and I want you to understand that. But there are
certain things about that man I'd like to have ex-
plained. Why was he sulking around here for the last
three or four weeks? Can you tell me? Why it was
the girl and nothing else.'

" *Now Uncle, calm yourself, calm yourself. I'm
not going to take Los' part, nor go against him, but
he's been too good a man to down merely on suspicion,'
interposed Bust here.

" 'I'm just looking things squarely in the face. Gold
has been the undoing of many a man ; and better men
than Los, or either of you or I. Perhaps his love for
the girl was only a sham to get their gold.'

"This was too much for the Kid.

" *Uncle, he said sharply, jumping up, his eyes flash-
ing defiance, the first thing you did on your return to-
day, was to take back what you said about Los going
luny over 'that petticoat,' as you used to call her. You
have had a lot of experience in your time, and ought
to be able to judge human nature somewhat. I am
only a boy — a Kid, as you call me, ignorant, stupid and
unsophisticated; but let me advise you to be careful,
and to weigh your words well, that you may not have
to go down on your knees before Los and swallow what
you have vomited. Give the man a chance to defend
himself. I feel sure of his ability to clear himself. As
for stealing their gold, his own share here squashes that
theory.'

" 'Your sermon. Kid, is all right for a young man
who hasn't seen the ways of the world yet. As for
apologizing for what I've said — I don't think I'll have
to. Appearances are about ninety-nine chances out of a
hundred against him. He certainly knows the girl is

DUAL PERSONALITY 1 13

dead, and he also knowis we'd go looking for him; now
why in the nation doesn't he show up and explain? Fd
like to know.*

" 'No doubt he had his reasons, Uncle,' replied the
Kid, bound to have the last word, favorable to you.

" 'Well, whoever stays in the cabin tomorrow — I
want to see him, should he return. He'll no doubt re-
turn for his dust. I guess the duty will fall on you,
Kid. It isn't safe for all of us to leave the cabin until
this case is cleared up. Bust, what's your opinion — guilty
or not guilty?' I asked.

" 'I haven't formed any opinion yet. I admit cir-
cumstances point against the man; however we should
give him a chance to explain before we condemn him.'

"This settled the argument regarding the crime and
your connection with it, and as it was getting late we
all tumbled into our bunks to get what sleep we could
under the circumstances.

"The following few days little was said about the
crime, your name seldom being mentioned. I cautioned
the Kid to be on his guard and not let himself be caught
napping, and under no circumstances, should you make
your appearance to leave you depart without my seeing
you."

"I admit. Uncle, suspicions pointed against me in
view of what you tell me, and I do not blame you much
for the stand you took," I answered.

CHAPTER XV

/^ NCE more, and as it turned out for me, for the
^^^ last time, winter and the cold long nights had set
in. Day after day, the five of us went down into the
mountain, laboring hard in digging out the earth and
bringing it to the top for the following spring's panning.
Bristow and I especially worked hard, and with a
dogged determination, more so to divert our minds from
our recent sorrow than for any pecuniary gain. Our
mutual sorrow increased our attachment for each other,
seldom finding us apart. Bristow was of a quiet dis-
position, and devoted most of his time during the even-
ings to reading, especially those books his sister had been
fond of, and which he now prized above everything else.
Especially did he enjoy reading certain verses which she
had marked as appealing to her thoughts and sentiments.

I was to a certain extent a fatalist and a mystic, and
took things in a philosophical way; not that I moved
around, whistling gay tunes or with a perpetual smile
on my face. Whilst my sorrw for the girl was just as
deep as Bristow's, yet I derived consolation in the belief
that things were destined to be as they were, and that
everything would be eventually for the best.

"I can't understand your logic," Bristow said to me
one day, while at work. "You mean to say that it was
God's will that Brown was to murder my sister in cold
blood, and that afterward we should follow him and
take his life, and that he condoned all? No, Los, I
can't take any stock in such reasoning."

"No, I don't mean to say that He condoned Brown's
crime, nor that He condoned ours. What I mean to say
is, that God's way of reasoning is not ours, and that
our minds are too limited to grasp His plans. Small

114

DUAL PERSONALITY 1 1 s

beginnings have often times great endings, and in after
years probably we shall have everything deciphered to
us, causing us to look at it in a different light. Who
knows what suffering may have been spared your sister
by her untimely end, although I would give the whole
world, if I possessed it, to have her back in our midst
again. No one deplores her death, nor grieves more
for her than I do. Your sister was a very good girl,
one that you meet amongst a thousand, and perhaps she
is now looking down from above, watching over us
and leading us safely toward our destiny. You should
not be continually thinking what might have been if
this or that had been done so, or had been left undone
thus. Try and look things squarely in the face as they
are, and what effect they may have on the future. What
is past, is past, and cannot be retrieved or altered, and
in a very short time our life's course will be run, and
everything will be the same."

"Perhaps Los, you are right in a good many of your
reasonings; yet, I cannot forget the fact that my dear
sister lies buried, dead and cold under the ground."

"Neither can I, nor do I wish to forget her, and the
memory of your dead sister will always bring to my
mind fond recollections of the happy times we spent
together. Many a night have I lain awake, wishing she
might still be with us, yet at the same time believing
everything was for the best."

While we were thus talking, we kept diligently at
work in the drift, which was the main one, while Bust
and the Kid were working in one of those ramifications,
previously mentioned. Uncle, who felt slightly indis-
posed that morning, stayed in the cabin, offering to act
as cook. I was picking away at the earth, which was
gradually becoming less compact, while Bristow stood
about six or seven feet back of me to allow mc more
scope for my pick.

1 16 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

"Listen Bristow, — don't that sound hollow?" I
asked as I struck in the pick with all nxyr might, at the
same time throwing all my weight against it.

Bristow jumped back, giving a warning shout to me
as he did so. Too late! The whole wall in front of
me, together with that under my feet, suddenly gave
way, engulfing me and carrying me along with it. We
had struck a subterranean cavity. Bristow told me he
heard the dull rumbling of the earth, and as it appeared
to him, the splash of water far down below. Bust and
the Kid, having heard the commotion, came running
out of their drift, inquiring what was wrong. Bristow,
who was scared almost out of his senses, could only
point to the dark hole yawning in front of them.

"Where's Los?" Inquired the Kid. ."Did he go
down?"

"Yes," answered Bristow.

"FU tell Uncle," the Kid shouted back as he ran for
the opening.

It took the Kid but a moment to reach the cabin, the
door of which he threw open so suddenly and with such
force that he upset Uncle, who stood right back of it,
all in a heap on the floor.

"Confound you, what ails you? coming in here like a
roaring hurricane, all out of wind."

"The whole mine's caved in. Uncle, and Los* gone
with it. I guess he's killed. Hurry up before it's too
late."

"What's the matter. Kid? Explain yourself. In
one breath you say, Los is killed, and in the next you
say, hurry up before it's too late."

"Don't ask any questions. Uncle, but come. Don't
stand there like a fool. You'll see when you get there,"
the Kid answered excitedly, rushing out of the cabin
toward the mine. Uncle chasing after him.

"What's up," Uncle asked as he entered the drift

DUAL PERSONALITY 1 1 7

and saw the yawning chasm before him.

"We had a cave-in and Los caved in with it," Bris-
tow replied, following with a brief description of the
accident.

Uncle picked up a small stone and dropped it down.
A few seconds after, he heard the faint splash of water.

"That sounds as though it was way down in hades,
Kid. You run down to the cabin and get the two
longest ropes weVe got. Bust, you go with him,"
Uncle commanded.

In a few minutes the boys were back with the ropes.

"Who'll go down?" Uncle asked.

"I will," answered the Kid, taking hold of one end
of the rope and tying it around him. "Boys, I must
have a lantern, I won't be able to see a thing down
there."

Before he had finished speaking. Bust had started ofiE
for one.

"Here you are Kid," coming back and handing him
the lantern — one of those old fashioned, square things,
with a tallow-candle inside.

"Now be careful. Kid, and don't bump your head
against the rocks," cautioned Uncle as they slowly low-
ered him.

It was a novel experience for the Kid, to be lowered
into this unknown region, his life hanging merely by
the threads of a rope. Visions of the bottomless pit,
pictures of which he had seen in "Dante's Inferno,"
danced through his mind. He felt the chills creeping
up and down his back, and his wrought up mind was
almost ready to conjure up all kinds of hob goblins as
he looked around at the dripping walls. He swung
the lantern to and fro, cautiously peering into the dark-
ness surrounding him, dreading every moment he'd dis-
cover something too hideous for him to think of. They
had lowered him probably sixty feet or so, when, as he

n8 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

swung his lantern around, he noticed an indistinct, hud-
dled up mass back of him, lying on a ledge of rock that
projected out about four or five feet. At the same time
he heard a faint groan, which appeared to him as though
it was coming out of the rocks. He gave a loud
shriek, the echoes of which coming up from below, ap-
peared to him as though the earth was full of fiends,
mocking him in his distress. These echoes intensified
his excited condition, he told me afterward.

"Pull me up ! Pull me up !" he shouted.

"What's the matter with you down there?" Uncle
shouted, partly guessing the cause of his excited yells.

"I saw and heard something. Why don't you pull
me up?" he shouted back from below.

"You saw and heard something? Where did you
see and hear it?"

"Back of me, lying on a rock," the Kid answered
back, somewhat less excited as it slowly dawned on his
excited mind that he was searching for me.

"Well, why don't you examine it? Don't act like
an idiot ; it may be Los," Uncle yelled down.

The Kid's nerves gradually assumed their normal
condition as he kept looking at the queer object that
had caused his alarm. At first he couldn't make out
what it was, but as his eyes gradually became accustom-
ed to the darkness, it resolved itself into the shape of a
human being. He was still slightly below me. He
called up for more rope, and as he came opposite it, he
could faintly distinguish my face and hands. He im-
mediately called out to those above to stop lowering.
The light of the lantern was not strong enough to pene-
trate the darkness sufficient for him to distinguish the
features, although he knew it was L His body swung
about eight feet distant from the ledge of rock, and he
concluded he could not possibly swing himself over on
it, so he gave orders for the rest to pull him up quickly.

DUAL PERSONALITY 1 19

He soon told them of his discovery and the position of
my body.

"We'll have to devise some plan to get next to him,"
Uncle remarked, after the Kid had finished.

"How would it be to take a stick or rod along, suffi-
ciently long to reach from one side to the other? The
rope would hold me suspended and all Fd have to do,
would be to push across with the rod by propping it
against the wall."

"Your plan's O. K. Kid. Bust run out and see if
you can find a sapling that will answer the purpose."

While Bust was gone for the sapling, the Kid gave
instructions to the other two as to what they were to
do after they had left him down, being not a little elated
over the fact that he was giving orders to Uncle, in-
stead of receiving them from him, as was the usual case.

"I'll fasten the rope around Los' body, keeping
enough end to hold him from swinging against the other
side. When I say pull, you pull steady and draw him
up, after which you can let the rope down for me. You
can tie a stone to it so as to give it more swing. When
I tell you to stop, you stop, and swing it over toward
me, and I'll catch it. When I yell for to pull, you just
tighten the rope, and then you wait until I say, ready.
I don't want you to pull me against that wall. Under-
stand?"

"Bravo, Kid! Yes we understand; you got some
brains after all," said Unde, who could not refrain
from having a fling at the Kid once in a while.

In a few moments the Kid was lowered down again,
carrying the long stick with him. In a few moments
he was standing on the ledge by the side of me, around
whose body he immediately fastened the rope. Gradual-
ly my limp body swung over the ledge as the ones from
aJbove drew on the rope. Up, up went my body until
it disappeared from the Kid's view altogether. The

I20 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

Kid, who had paid very little attention to his surround-
ings now proceeded to make an examination of the
rocks, by the aid of his lantern, more out of curiosity
and to pass away the time, than in the hope of discover-
ing anything valuable. As he held the lantern above
his head waving it to and fro to get a better view, he
gave a cry of delight at the sight he beheld. The whole
rock in front and above him was shooting out little rays
of yellow light, as though in imitation of the ones pro-
duced by his lantern.

"Whew!" — he whistled a long drawn exclamation
through his teeth.

He took out his jack-knife and literally cut chunks of
pure gold out of the rocks.

"If this strike don^t beat all the golden dreams I
ever had! This may mean another ranch. Gold!
Gold!"

He picked out a dozen nuggets, some as big as a pea,
and slipped them into his pocket. At this moment he
heard Uncle's voice from above:

"What are you doing down there? Hey Kid, what's
up ? We've paid out about a hundred feet o' rope and
no signs from you yet."

"Pull up until I tell you," the Kid shouted back.
"Now swing her over. Steady there. Don't jerk her
so." He made a grab for the rope and missed it by
about six inches.

The next time he was successful.

"Go ahead slowly," he shouted after he had the rope
adjusted around his body.

"Jerusalem!" he ejaculated as they drew him over
the precipice by his arms. "Look at this!" he exclaim-
ed as he reached into his pocket and drew forth thq
nuggets for their inspection. "Don't they make your
eyes smart, looking at them? They are some of my
dreams, Unde," he said sarcastically, as he put them

DJJAL PERSONALITY 121

into the old man's hand. ''How is Los; is he dead?
O" he sighed, as he saw me lying on some loose ground
in a niche of the gangway with Bristow bending over
me, bathing my face and temples with cold water, in an
attempt to bring me back to consciousness. "How is
he, Mr. Bristow?" he asked, hurrying over to where
I lay.

"Unconscious. Not a sign of life. He is pretty well
battered up. His face is all cut up, and he has a deep
gash on the back of his head."

"We'd better hurry him down to the cabin, where
it's nice and warm and where we can thaw him out.
That cut on the back of his head, he no doubt got by
being thrown against the wall. How is it down there,
Kid— rocky?"

"Yes, there are big sharp rocks jutting out all the
way down, as near as I could make out."

They carried me down to the cabin, where they
washed and dressed my wounds. They tried all means
they knew of to revive me, without avail. I kept up a
continual moan, every once in a while trying to reach
the back of my head, which I was prevented from doing
only by the continual vigilance of my friends. Some-
times I would mutter an incoherent word, like that of a
person in a dream. My friends gave me the best of
nursing they knew how, with their limited knowledge
of such cases.

"We are in a deuce of a hole with him, here in our
isolated condition, so far from civilization. He ought
to be under doctor's care, then there might be some
chance for him. As it is, I have very little hope for
him," said Bristow the next day to the rest, as I be-
came more violent than I had been previously.

"We can but do our best, boys. It'll take two weeks
to get a doctor up here, from Dawson. In that time
he'U be either dead or on the way to recovery," Uncle

122 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

responded.

I had been lying in this comatose state for one whole
week, when one day I surprised Bristow by asking him
for a drink of water. Bristow, who had been my steady
nurse, and who had at the time been attending to some
minor duties, was so agreeably surprised, that he jumped
up as though a snake had bitten him. Hastening to my
side, he stooped over me and asked me to repeat the
request, fearing it might be imagination on his part. I
repeated the request in a low voice. Bristow handed
me a cupful of the refreshing drink. I was very weak.
On being asked how I felt, I merely shook my head in
the negative.

"Does your head hurt you very much?" Bristow
asked me.

I looked at him with half closed eyes, not fully com-
prehending for over half a minute. Finally I opened
my lips and whispered :

"Yes.*'

Bristow procured a clean bandage, saturated it with
whisky and tied it around my head, after removing the
old one. He watched me for a long time, and as he
did so, he began to think of his dead sister and how we
two best friends of his were being lost to him perhaps
forever.

CHAPTER XVI

* I * HE wealth of gold which the Kid had discovered
in the rocks overhanging the ledge where he had
found me unconscious, was nothing, compared to what
was found after a more thorough investigation. Uncle,
who was proclaimed the leader and also the engineer
in all matters pertaining to our daily work, could not
resist the temptation of immediately going down him-
self to make a more thorough inspection, as soon as my
immediate wants were cared for. They immediately
constructed a huge, rude ladder, which reached down
opposite the ledge where I was found, as a means of
descending without assistance from those above. They
next cut short poles, long enough to reach from the lad-
der to the ledge, to enable them to get across. Uncle
was the first one to go down the ladder. Bust and the
Kid lowering the poles by means of the rope. As the
poles were lowered. Uncle shoved them across by
means of a light pole with a fork at the end. After
laying a half dozen across in this way. Uncle called up
from bdow that he had enough, after which he pro-
ceeded cautiously to work his way across. He stayed
down for about an hour longer, when he suddenly made
his appearance at the top of the ladder, unnoticed by the
boys, who were discussing the accident to me and my
chances of recovery

"What have you found. Uncle?" they both asked
eagerly, as he stepped on terra firma.

"What have I found!" he exclaimed answering the
question by producing nugget after nugget out of his
pocket.

"Lord ! you don't mean to say you got all those down

123

124 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

there in this short time, do you?" Bust exclaimed,
staring in open-mouthed wonder.

"I certainly do. Say boys, it's simply beyond my
vocabulary to express myself. It's gold! gold! gold!
and then some more gold, down there. Go down an
see for yourselves, boys."

Bust eagerly jumped at this invitation, grabbed the
lantern, and was immediately out of sight. In a half-
hour's time he appeared, with another dozen small
nuggets in his pocket. The Kid, knowing how it
looked down there, Uncle suggested they'd better re-
turn to the cabin, and see how I was getting along, and
also show Bristow the nuggets they had found.

"How is he?" Uncle asked as they entered the cabin
door.

"He was conscious a few moments ago but he's
dropped into a sound sleep again. He spoke but a few
words. He is too weak yet. In answer to my ques-
tion, he said his head hurts him very much," Bristow
answered.

"Thank the Lord he's coming around at last !" Uncle
exclaimed.

"How are you making out by this time?" inquired
Bristow.

"Fine, Bristow, fine. It beats every claim in Alaska
and the United States. We are ready to begin opera-
tions tomorrow. We hung a ladder all the way down,
with poles across from the ladder to the ledge making it
easy for anybody to get there. Look at this, will you?"
he said producing the nuggets and throwing them on
the table. "Bristow, I tell you we'll all be millionaires
in a year's time. Tomorrow the three of us will go
down and begin operations, while you'll continue nurs-
ing Los. We'll all stand in for equal shares."

Day after day and week after week, the three were
busy, working the "El Dorado." Every evening saw

DUAL PERSONALITY 125

our pile of gold increased by thousands of dollars. I
kept slowly but steadily improving. While I still com-
plained of considerable pain in the head, that also
yielded in time. Sometimes I would sit for hours near
the fire, my head resting in my hands, without utter-
ing a word, except when answering a question of Bris-
tow's, and then only by yes or no. When in such a
mood I seemed to be oblivious of everything around me,
absorbed in my own reflections.

"Los, you ought to rouse yourself and take more
interest in things. You don't even take any interest in
the mine any more, and I surely think that would be
something to create interest in a mummy."

"Bristow, if you think Fm sleeping when I sit like
this, you are greatly mistaken. My mind is on some-
thing more important than a dozen gold mines. I am
trying to trace out a crazy-patch quilt in my mind."

"How do you mean, Los?"

"Never mind what I mean. Some day I hope Fll be
able to startle you all, after I get more of the cob-
webs removed. I think it will be somewhat of ^ sur-
prise to me, too. More I can't tell you at present."

Bristow did not press the subject any further, realiz-
ing the futility of it. Nothing further was said on the
subject, and it was soon forgotten by Bristow and ap-
parently by me. It was now in the month of April,
and the short summer would soon make it's advent
again. I was gradually becoming my former self again,
the pain in my head having gradually yielded to their
treatment, and I decided I was strong enough to wield
the pick and shovel again.

"Uncle, I feel as strong as an ox again, and if you
won't soon let me go along with the boys I'll become
desperate and begin razing the cabin, or do some other
undesirable trick. What say you Uncle, wiU you
give me permission?"

126 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

"Next week you may try it. In the meantime you
may assist Bristow in the kitchen. — No, no, that's
final," as I started to remonstrate. "You just con-
tinue to be a good boy and obey your captain. I've
handled such cases before. You imagine yourself
stronger than what you are. Why man! you'd keel
over the first hour."

I felt the truth of this statement, for at that moment
I felt a weakness coming over me, due to my extra exer-
tions.

"I guess you are right, Uncle. But it's a hard pill
for me to digest when I see you all hard at work from
morning to night, and a great big lubber like I am,
passing away the time in idleness."

"You've done more than any of us," the Kid re-
turned. "Hadn't it been for you accidentally falling
down that shaft, we'd still be plugging away at the
same rate of speed we were used to, while now we are
bringing home thousands of dollars every night."

"Don't you think I could stand the exertion of going
down in the mine to see what it looks like?" I asked
Uncle.

"Not yet. We just got you on your feet, we don't
want to get you on your back again."

About a week after I took a stroll by m5rself down the
stream to the triangular patch of ground where we first
struck camp and where I had the experience with the
bears. It was a nice level plot of ground and it always
had a certain fascination for me. I seated myself upon
the log where Uncle and I had sat when he inquired
the cause of my worry.

I had sat there probably a half hour, my thoughts
having wandered far away to that unknown valley that
I had seen so often in my visions. I gradually drifted
into that subjective state which had become so habitual
and easy for me. My face was buried in my hands.

DUAL PERSONALITY 127

Then suddenly, like a thunder-clap I heard the name,
clear and distinct, twice in succession, "Jim Harper,
Jim Harper."

I jumped to an erect position. I hastily looked all
about me to discover the author. It had been the voice
of a woman. Then came the revelation. It was like
the drawing of a curtain off my mind. I pressed my
hands against my head. "Jim Harper! Jim Harper!
Why that is I. I am Jim Harper," I uttered in a
hushed voice. Then : "Yes, here I am," I shouted.

Under the first impulse I started to run for the cabin
to convey to Bristow the joyful tidings. The emotion
brought on a spell of weakness and I became faint. I
realized the truth of what Uncle had told me — that I
wasn't strong enough yet. I reseated myself on the log.
"Jim Harper. Yes, that is I. I am so positive of that
as I am being seated on this log. But that voice, where
did it come from ?" It was a case of clear-hearing. To
trace that voice to its author would be another great
stride toward the answering of my seven-year long
prayer. Again my thoughts drifted to that valley —
those blue mountains along its eastern boundary; the
long, straggling village with the well-kept road run-
ning through it ; the little house with its flowery yard —
"Ah, yes! I remember. Why that is my home. Flo,
Flo! Yes I am coming home, home to you and the
baby. Home, as fast as steam can bear me." I wept —
a man's tears. My pent-up soul poured out its seven-
year grief. Then came the remembrance of that vision
where I saw her struck down by the man who had
betrayed me and robbed me of my secret — "Ah! that
secret ! the secret that made him rich." The same man
whom I had seen sitting in the rocking chair staring
at the wall of the room. Jack Leach.

I remembered all now, my whole forgotten life. It
again passed before me in a vivid panorama, the same

128 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

as It had that night in the forest, when my life was en-
dangered by the wolves. But this time I remembered.
It is not for me to tell here the different, strange emo-
tions that coursed through my mind as I slowly made
my way back to the cabin, my strength not yet permit-
ting me to hurry.

As I remembered the history of my recently forgotten
past, and that of the past seven years with its visions,
its dreams, the dear associates I was with, the ridicule
of Uncle when I revealed those visions and dreams to
him, the hazy, familiarity of him and his by-word,
"Nation," in the far distant past, I could not resist the
temptation of playing a joke on them in the form of a
tale, climaxing it with a surprise at the end.

They were all there when I arrived at the cabin,
getting ready for the evening meal. After we had
finished and everything cleared up, our pipes lit, ,1
addressed myself to the crowd :

"Tonight boys, I will tell you a tale, the story of a
young man whose life, or part of it, was so very similar
to mine that it has been written indelibly on my
memory. I read it that winter when I had made my
home with those old people in central Pennsylvania.
I want you to promise me not to interrupt me under
any circumstances until I have finished."

They all promised and waited for me to begin.

CHAPTER XVII

C OME years ago as the story ran, a young man left

the town of S , in the state of New York, and

wandered into that of Pennsylvania. He drifted from
one locality to another until he finally procured em-
ployment amongst the Pennsylvania German farmers
where he fell in love with and married one of their
daughters.

This young man possessed considerable inventive
ability which he developed to such an extent that by
persistent labor and experimenting on rainy days, in
a little, partitioned-ofi room in the barn, and through-
out many sleepless nights of mental struggles he at last
worked out the model of a machine which was to prove
a great labor-saving device.

There were two obstacles that stood in the way of
reaping the reward of his success :

One was his poverty and the other was his lack of
influence and business ability to place it on the market.

He possessed a friend however, a very confidential
friend, who had considerable influence and who also
possessed to a great extent that business ability which
he lacked.

One day he invited his friend into his little room in
the barn and there he confided to him his whole secret,
exacting a promise to keep it inviolate. While he was
so ardently explaining every minute detail of the
machine, and the purpose it was to serve, his
friend's mind was busy in taking a mental inventory of
every detail, asking numerous questions of the young
man during his recital. After he had finished, his friend
expressed his sorrow for the young man's lack of funds

129

1 30 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

to "push" It, and his own disability to assist him.

He left his young friend, reiterating his promise to
keep the secret inviolate. On numerous occasions af-
terward he came and asked the young inventor to re-
elucidate certain parts of the machine which had escaped
his memory. The young inventor, not suspecting any
evil designs on the friend's part was always too glad
to impart to him the knowledge.

Months passed by, when one day he heard by acci-
dent, in the village store, of his confidential friend's
very successful invention — the treachery and betrayal
of his own confidence.

Without saying a word he left the store. He was
crushed by the unexpected news. He immediately went
home and told his wife, Flo.

"What can be done?" she asked.

"Nothing, people would not believe me."

That night he passed a sleepless night.

He resolved to leave home and seek a living for him-
self and family somewhere else. He apprised his wife
of his resolution the next morning, turning over all the
money he possessed, twenty dollars, all but a few odd
pennies. He was to send for her and his child as soon
as he had secured steady employment.

He left home that same day, his journey taking him
toward the railway where he intended to beat his way
on freight trains.

The heavy chug, chug, chug, chug of a freight loco-
motive tugging laboriously at a long string of battle-
ships, announced its welcome tidings to the ears of the
dusty, lonesome looking traveler as she came slowly
crawling around the curve about a quarter mile above
the station. The young inventor had had a long and
wearisome journey that morning with the hot Septem-
ber sun beating into his face. He wore a sad and woe-
begone expression on his usually bright, expressive face.

DUAL PERSONALITY 131

He had seated himself upon a pile of ties opposite a
water plug, waiting until opportunity should present
him with a free ride.

"At last," he sighed, slowly getting on his feet in
preparation of getting on. While the engine was tak-
ing water, he found a snug retreat under the hopper
of one of the big battleships in the rear end of the train.
Here, he knew he would be sheltered from the sun
while at the time he was resting his weary limbs.

He became drowsy, and settling himself safely and
comfortably against one of the steel braces he fell asleep,
the train meanwhile carrying him onward on his
journey.

The train had stopped with a sudden jar, almost
throwing the traveler ofl his seat under the wheels.
How long he had slept he knew not. The rude shock
had suddenly awakened him to a realization of his dan-
ger. It was night, and not knowing where he was, he
looked about in a dazed way trying to take in his bear-
ings. He found himself in a big railway yard. All he
could see were sidings filled with long trains of cars.
He slowly got up out of his cramped position and
jumped to the ground where he stretched his tired
limbs.

**B-r-r-r" he made, a chill passing through his
body, chattering his teeth. It hs^d rained during the
night and the dampness was coming through, touching
his skin.

He started to walk between two trains of cars. Find-
ing an empty box car, he cautiously looked about and
not finding anyone about he nimbly jumped inside, not
caring where it might lead him so long as it gave him
protection from the rain. Placing his little bundle, con-
taining a pair of overalls and jumper, on the floor, he
placed his head on it and coiled himself up on the hard
floor.

1 32 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

He lay awake for a long time, the dampness of his
clothes and the agitated state of his mind preventing
him from going to sleep.

How long he had slept he knew not. He was rudely
awakened by a terrible shock, followed by a horrible,
deafening, grinding noise, such as only two trains, run-
ning at full speed into each other, can produce. In a
twinkling he was on his feet and with one bound he
gained the side door with the intention of forcing it
open and gaining safety. Vain attempt. The door
had been securely fastened from the outside, and be-»
sides, it was too late. With a wild cry of despair he
saw his impending fate. Before and behind him the
ends of the car were crushed like egg shells, into
kindling wood. He saw the huge black hulk of a steel
car shoved through the car from behind. Down, down
it came like some living monster, crushing his body be-
neath it — and then oblivion.

When he regained consciousness in the hospital, his
mind was a total blank compelling him to start out with
a new career ahead of him, nameless and homeless.

For months he traveled, his wanderings taking him
across the American Continent. He suffered many un-
told hardships and finally joined a party with whom he
traveled into a far off country, where by good luck and
thrift he and the rest of the party became very wealthy.

One day, in that far off country, he met with an
accident whereby he received a severe shock to his head.
For a long time he remained unconscious, hovering be-
tween life and death. Careful nursing and a sound con-
stitution finally brought him around. One day during
his convalescence he took a stroll by himself to a nice
level spot of ground where he seated himself on a log.
Here he soon became lost in reverie. He had forgotten
all about his surroundings, when clearly and distinctly
he heard a mmc called — the name of a man. It was

DUAL PERSONALITY 133

the voice of a female. He looked about in all direc-
tions to discover whence it might come. He under-
stood. It was the voice of a soul calling to its far dis-
tant mate. Then he recognized it. The voice was that
of his wife calling him, her husband. Slowly the curtain
was being drawn away, the rays of light came shining
down upon his beclouded brain, and he remembered
all his forgotten past.

The startling revelation was too great a secret to
keep long from his companions, amongst whom was one
who, had he used his memory a little, might have help-
ed to clear up his mystery years before. That is the
story of this young inventor.

"What was his name" the Kid asked.

"I forgot to mention that."

I looked Uncle squarely in the face.

"His name was Jim Harper, the son of Jesse Harper,
a farmer who lived in the southern part of New York

state, about six miles from the town of S where

he used to make semi-weekly trips on business and
whom the son, Jim, a lad of fifteen years, used to accom-
pany.

"They used to put up at a hotel by the name of the
L house situated on V street. The bar-
tender used to crack many a joke with the young in-
ventor's father, while mixing cocktails, producing many
a boisterous laugh from the guests.

"The bartender's name was John Waller, and by the
'nation' I can see him yet."

Uncle jumped instantly to his feet on hearing his
name called, it not having been mentioned during these
five years while in our company.

"And who the nation are you?" he asked excitedly.

"I am that Jim Harper, the son of Jesse Harper," I
answered quietly.

"Why didn't you tell me that long ago ?"

134 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

"How could I? I but received the revelation this
afternoon."

Uncle's brawny, right hand shot out and clasped mine
in a vise-like grip, almost crushing mine in his fervor.

"Los, I am down right glad to see you on your
original feet once more."

"So am I, and I know all, as though I had never
forgotten it. But please do not call me by that name
anymore. It has become hateful to me. It was bom
out of my undoing and now since my past has been
resurrected, let that name be buried in the grave of my
resurrection.

"I have many things to tell you concerning my past
that I have omitted in my story of the young inventor.
It will serve for another evening's chapter.

"Do you remember, Uncle, the time I told you of my
visions, the time you ridiculed me and told me they
were hallucinations, fantasms of my brain?"

"Yes, I remember that?"

"And when I told you I might even announce to you
your own name ?"

"Yes, I remember that."

"I spoke the truth without knowing it. Whenever
you used that by-word ^Nation' there was always some-
thing familiar about it. It seemed as though I had
heard it in the far distant past. There was even some-
thing about you that appeared familiar to me. But
not until today was the mystery cleared up.

"Some of the visions I had are faithful, the rest I also
hope to have explained in the near future.

"I am going home, home to where I belong, home to
those I have so long neglected. Who knows under
what circumstances I will find them. Of their ex-
istence I am positive, because I have recently seen them
in a vision. That they have been in great distress since
I have left them I am equally as positive. Besides, I

DUAL PERSONALITV 135

have a heavy account to settle of another kind. There
shall be retribution, stern retribution for the man who
defrauded me and has been living boastingly on his
ill-gotten gains.

"I saw, in large letters, the word emblazoned on the
wall of his room, the night you and I, Bristow, laid
down for some much needed rest, the time we were after
your sister's murderer.

"So now, in a few days* time I will start for home."

"Not yet," Uncle said. "Tomorrow night you will
tell us all about yourself and your outstanding account
with your betrayer and then I will give you some sound
advice. But start for home you will not yet, you are
not strong enough to make the six thousand mile
journey. A week or two delay will not make much
difference in a period of seven years."

I saw the logic of Uncle's argument. He was right
and I said nothing more on the subject that night.

It was getting late. The rest retired to their bunks
while I went out into the hallowed night and there,
with the Mariner's Compass — "The Great Bear" —
almost directly overhead, twinkling in his brightness,
and the bright moon to the south of me, I fell upon my
knees and gave thanks to the Great Unknown — ^no not
to the Unknown, for surely He is known — for His
signal answer to my seven-year prayer, the prayer that
had been my predominant wish all these years and which
I felt positive would sometime, somehow be answered.

I returned to the cabin and retired to my bunk, not
to sleep. Sleep was out of the question ; for who could
sleep on such a momentous occasion ?

All that night my mind was in a feverish state, alter-
nately beset with doubts and fears concerning my loved
ones on one side and felicitous expectations on the other.

Was Flo still bound to me by those holy ties of love
which she had vowed on the day of our union, or was I

136 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

to return home finding myself a second "Enoch Arden ?"
No, the thought was unholy, and I did her a great
wrong for entertaining it.

Then again, what form of punishment should I mete
out to the traitor, Leach, a man who had stood high in
the community, and who had been looked upon as an
exemplar for just and square dealing. Should I punish
him physically or should I denounce him before all men,
bringing upon him the silent condemnation and ostracism
of all those who placed honor above all else? Or
should I do both? It was a question for my home
coming to decide.

CHAPTER XVIII

nr* HE following night I gave my friends a more
detailed account of my past, previous life. I
especially dwelt on that part of it that had to do with
my betrayal by Jack Leach. I told them of the visions
I had had, my hopes and fears concerning my loved
ones, the distress I felt sure they were in or had been
in. I pleaded with Uncle to permit me to start at
once. To the last he turned a deaf ear, reiterating
that I was not yet strong enough to make the journey.

"You take my advice Jim, and follow my instruc-
tions, and all will be well. I assure you I can advise
you out of experience. I can fully sympathize with
you, because I also have gone through the mill ; not in
the same sense that you have, but equally as hard.
What that experience was is neither here nor there, we
are going to discuss your case tonight. In the first
place, what do you intend to do with Leach when you
arrive home?"

"I am not so sure what I will or may do after my
arrival home ; but there will be a reckoning with com-
pound interest, of that I am certain. If he was here
tonight, I can tell you what I would do. We would
step outside the door, and there by the light of the
moon we would settle accounts. One of us would not
return to Pennsylvania."

"I am very sorry he isn't here. It would be a grat-
ifying entertainment to me. Here, in this country a
man is a law to himself, answerable to his conscience
and his God alone. When you go back to Pennsyl-
vania your legal and social status will be different. You
will be answerable to the laws of the state, be they just

137

138 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

or unjust, I wish to warn you to keep cool. No matter
what may happen, keep down your anger, don't let your
passion run your head into a noose," Uncle warned me.

"I will not, of that I am sure," I answered.

"You do not know what you might do. You will
get into a heated argument with him; one hot word
will draw forth another, then you may forget yourself
and draw that which you had better not have about
you. You understand what I mean?"

"Yes, but I will not do that," I answered decidedly,
sure of myself.

"You do not know, I am not so sure of you. I am
sorry I may not be with you and help you to see this
thing through safely. If it wasn't for the Kid, here,
rd have half a mind to go with you."

"Why don't you. Uncle?" the Kid asked. "Wc
can take care of ourselves until your return."

"Because I promised your mother to return her boy
safely. That's why.

"You can sue him and fight him in a court of law,"
Uncle suggested, once more addressing me.

"No I'll not sue him," I replied positively. "My
father was a wise man. Uncle, and he always advised
me to steer clear of the law. He always said going to
law was throwing good money after bad. Therefore,
no law for me."

"I guess you are right, Jim. Besides, if as you tell
us he is an influential man, his word would be accepted
by a jury in preference to yours. You would be con-
sidered a vagabond and a deserter to your post of duty.
Besides, he will have money to back him."

"So will I. On that question, we will stand on
equal grounds."

"That is so, I had forgotten that you are a Croesus."

"Why don't you give him a sound thrashing and
done with," the Kid interposed.

DUAL PERSONALITY 139

"That would be too mild a punishment. It must
be a chastisement suitable to the offence, retribution in
large capital letters, as I saw it written on the wall ; a
punishment that will increase in severity as time passes

by."

"That would be justice with a vengeance." Bust
said for the first time speaking.

"It may be all that. But when I remember the
torture I endured, crossing those arid plains, those
alkali deserts, my soul like a Dives, praying for a drop
of water to cool my swollen tongue, my feet, raw and
blistered, my head racked with pain by the scorching
rays of the sun, — going mad,— can you blame me for
entertaining such thoughts against that man?"

"No," Bristow said, vehemently. "Give him his
desert. Hew to the line. Let him be made an example
to others."

Such was the various advice I received. As to my
own promptings I could not make up my mind in what
manner or form I would mete out that punishment. It
would all depend on the conditions I found on my ar-
rival home.

For five weeks I . took things easy, not doing any-
thing but exercising and thinking. Five long intermin-
able weeks they seemed to me. All this time I was
building strength and vigor, until at the end of the ex-
pired time I was once more in the pink of condition, fit
for anything that might cross my path.

Our mine had yielded wonderfully, and after I had
received my share, I found myself a rich man beyond
my expectations. I was wild with the prospects of
happiness before me. My wife and child became a
beacon unto me, and for whom I was willing to brave
the horrors of the desert once more if necessary.

It was with a feeling of relief that I stepped off the
boat at Seattle. It had been a wearisome journey to

I40 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

mc between Dawson and the last named city. The
days had seemed long to me, and the short nights almost
as long. The nearer the boat reached its destination
the more impatient I had become. The greater part
of the time during our passagfe, I walked the deck, feel-
ing like a caged hyena, besetting my agitated mind once
more with those doubts and fears concerning my loved
ones. What condition or circumstances would I find
them in? Would they still remember me or had they
given me up as dead ? Would they still be in the land
of the living, if so, were they still watching and wait-
ing for me? Had my wife remained true to my mem-
ory, after all these years of absence, and without so
much as hearing one word from me?

These and many similar thoughts of a like nature
coursed through my mind, driving me almost to distrac-
tion. More than once my strange actions on board the
vessel caused comment amongst my fellow passengers.
But now, when my feet once more trod the firm earth,
my nervousness vanished, and I felt more at ease, I
became strong and self-reliant again, feeling like a new
man.

I took a train for San Francisco where I was delayed
until I had my gold assayed and had received its value,
all in double eagles amounting to one hundred thou-
sand dollars, nearly all of which I deposited in one of
the National banks, receiving a certified check there-
fore. I now felt lighter after being relieved of a great
burden, a burden that raised me to the clouds instead of
depressing me.

I entered a clothing house and bought me an outfit
from head to foot. I also bought a disguise,^ — 3, wig and
beard well tinged with gray, — the object in doing so
being to prevent anyone from recognizing me, especially
my family, upon whom I intended to spring a surprise.
I had always been a practical joker and here was an

DUAL PERSONALITY 141

opportunity where I could practice one with a happy
climax, as I hoped.

Upon inquiring the departure of the next train east,
I was informed there was none within four hours. This
to me sounded calamitous.

"Four hours!" I muttered to myself, bestowing a
half-doubtful look at the ticket agent, thinking he must
have made a mistake.

"Four hours," he repeated, noticing my incredulity.

"It's a wonder they wouldn't run trains closer once
in a while to accommodate passengers. Must be a one-
horse road anyway," I muttered under my breath as I
left the window to make room for others. "After all
what does a difference of four hours mean compared to
seven long years."

With that philosophy I comforted myself.

At last I was seated comfortably in a Pullman chair
and the train pulled out. Every telegraph pole we
passed brought me nearer home. I bought a paper and
tried to read. I was utterly unable to concentrate my
mind on the matter it contained. Finally, I threw the
paper down and settled myself in the seat with the inten-
tion of taking a nap. My mind was in such a whirl,
try as I would I could not sleep. Finally I roused my-
self.

"What a fool I am making of myself. I can no more
change the course of events than I can change the struc-
ture of the moon. Time enough to worry after I get
home, if it is necessary. Here I am imagining all kinds
of calamities and everything may be in perfect order,
according to my hopes."

The philosophy I used to preach to Bristow now
asserted itself once more. It gave me peace and com-
fort as nothing else would. Once more I took up the
discarded paper. This time with better success. When
I finally laid it down I found I had consumed two

142 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

hours in reading it. These were the shortest two hours
I had thus far passed on the train. I now became in^
terested in the scenery and began to enjoy my journey.
As we traveled across the desert, its arid wastes ap-
peared ten times more forbidding than it did when I
crossed it on scalded feet. Thus the time passed, day
after day, until at last I looked out over a country that
appeared familiar to me — Central Pennsylvania, As
I studied my railway map and looked beyond the peaks
of the mountains my memory recalled those kindly,
whole-souled, old people who lived not more than seven
miles beyond. "Fond recollections! I wonder if they
are still alive? How I would love to greet them and
receive them."

" 'Remember, my boy, if you ever feel lonesome again,
or meet with misfortune, you know where to find
Mirandy and I.' "

What would they think of me now, coming home
with affluence and influence, lost, but found. It was
with a pang of regret that I passed without giving them
a token of my love.

Later on the scene became still more familiar as we
passed through the Lebanon Valley with its green un-
dulating flelds, the corn tops waving in the breeze, and
the ridge of the Blue Mountains boldly outlined against
the horizon.

Still later I could see ahead of the fast moving train
the mountains that encircled the valley, one of the
garden spots of Pennsylvania, and to me God's country
— that contained my goal, my Paradise.

It was exactly six o'clock when the train pulled into
the station, distant about ten miles from my home and
loved ones.

I had by baggage checked, telling the baggage-master
I would call for it in a day or two. From there I
proceeded directly to a livery stable, after first adjust-

DUAL PERSONALITY 143

ing my disguise.

"How much will you charge me for the best team

you have in the stable and a driver to take me to C

tonight," I inquired of the liveryman.

"Three dollars and a half," he replied promptly.

"All right, get it out," I replied with equal prompt-
ness.

CHAPTER XIX

44^7" OU may stop here and leave me out. I will
walk the rest of the way," I told the driver as
we arrived within a quarter mile of my home or what I
expected to find my home. Before I dismissed him I
gave him a two dollar bill.

"This is for you," I said.

He thanked me, turned his team about and left me
standing in the road, alone. I wanted to be alone. I
wanted to have time to think and to calm myself. Now
that I was so near home, I found myself almost a
stranger. Within five minutes I stood before the gate,
I quietly raised the old familiar latch and entered the
yard. By the light of the moon, which was half full
I recognized the well kept yard with the grass around
the flower-beds neatly trimmed, the same old, homely,
but beautiful flowers my wife used to cultivate, the
graveled walk with its straight lines and right angles,
leading to the rear of the house; all as it had been be-
fore I had left home, and as I had seen it many times
in my clairvoyant visions. And this brought me back
to her who was the half of my life — my soul — ^which
had been such an incomplete existence for seven years,
almost; and the little girl, the baby, with her brown
curls which her mother took such particular pains
with. I remembered how I used to stand her upon
my shoulder and run around the room; how I used
to chuck her up to the ceiling and then catch her as
she came down all drawn into an animated little bundle ;
how Flo and I used to place her in the center of the
dining table, teaching her to dance, and how she used
to enjoy all this with gleeful peals of laughter. I still

144

DUAL PERSONALITY 145

imagined to find her as I had left her, forgetful for the
time being of my seven years' absence, seven years to
her as well as to me.

I quietly w^alked round to the rear, north side of the
house, the door being on the south side. I silently
crept up to the window, and now that the crucial time
had arrived, that was to decide my weal or woe, my
courage almost failed me, fearful of what the vision
might disclose.

I rose and looked. My heart seemed to rise to my
throat and I began to choke. At one end of the table
sat my wife employed in making a new dress ; the same
features, somewhat sadder and more resigned ; the same
wavy hair, slightly tinged with gray. At the other end
sat an old lady with almost snow-white hair, thin in
face and body, mending one of the little girl's stockings
— Flo's mother.

In the big rocking chair, occupying and usurping my
place as lord of the home, sat my old, intimate friend,
John Myers.

Beside him, with a picture book, one of the pictures
of which he was explaining to her, stood the little girl,
— ^my own child, — not as I had imagined her still to be,
but a half grown up little miss of ten years. She still
wore those curls, much longer and thicker than when
I had seen them last. Every now and then she would
laugh as Myers made some funny remark about the
picture. This was the vision that was discovered to my
eyes. With one fell blow my anticipations, my fond
imaginations, that I entertained all through my journey
home, lay shattered and broken before the window of
my former home.

I felt like a second "Enoch Arden" and like him, the
impulse for the moment seized me to leave as quietly as
I had come, without a solitary soul knowing of my
presence; to return to that far northern country, back

146 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

to those four friends, the only ones in whom I still had
faith, and there in peace and quiet, far from the mad-
dening whirl and twirl of a deceitful world, spend the
remainder of my days

But it was not so easy to break away. The chains
of memory held me bound to the spot. For a long,
long time I stood there, gazing with longing eyes upon
the scene inside. How long I gazed I knew not. Time
signified nothing to me.

I saw Myers get up and reach for his hat which had
been hanging on the back of a vacant chair. I saw him
say something to my wife and her mother ; I heard him
give the child — my child — good-night as he passed out
the door into the moon-lit night. I waited for a while,
but he failed to come back. I walked round to the
south side of the house and knocked gently at the door.
My wife opened it. Momentarily, I had almost for-
gotten and impulsively I was about to reach out and
crush her to my heart. Recollecting in time, I asked :

"Does Mrs. Harper live here?"

"Yes," she answered. "I am she."

"Jim Harper's wife?"

"Yes, that is, I was his wife. Come in," she in-
vited me eagerly.

I stepped across the threshold of my own home and
introduced myself as that of my own cousin from New
York State.

"Ladies I beg your pardon for this intrusion at this
late hour of the night. Jim and I used to be chums in
our boyhood days and not hearing of him for over sev-
en years, I decided to look him up."

After thus introducing myself, they gave me a very
cordial reception, neither of them having penetrated my
disguise.

"Pardon me, Mrs. Harper, but did you say you had
been Jim's wife ? Is he dead, then ?"

DUAL PERSONALITY 147

"I am not so sure whether I am wife, widow or grass-
widow. He left me and the baby nearly seven years
ago, in quest of employment and since that time I have
neither seen nor heard of him. I am still praying and
hoping for his return."

All doubt was removed from my heart on hearing
those words. She had been faithful. I walked up to
her, and taking both of her hands into my own I said :

"Your prayers will be answered, for your husband
lives and all is well."

"He lives do you say, then why does he not hasten
to me? Why this mystery? You know? Tell me
all, I can bear anything. But you say all is well. —
Why don't you speak? Let me fly to him."

"Flo," I said quietly, and for die first time in my
natural voice.

It startled her. She searched my face, hidden be-
hind its mask for an answer. She had heard the voice
of her husband, but she was looking into the face of
a stranger.

"You know where my husband is? Why keep me
in suspense? Tell me all so I may fly to him."

I could resist no longer. With one quick move of
my hand I pulled off my disguise and stood revealed
before her.

"Then come," I said, opening my arms wide.

"Jim," she sobbed. "At last!" burying her face on
my neck and shoulder.

"Yes, Flo, at last I have come. Grone for seven long
years but still remembered. Lost and found."

I gently removed her head and I looked deep into
those expressive eyes, a moment ago so sad, now shin-
ing with a new strange light, a light that expressed her
whole souFs peace and happiness.

"Where have you been, where do you come from?"
she stammered.

148 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

I have come a long journey, from the land of the
Midnight Sun and the North Star — from Alaska."

I turned my attention to my child. She stood back
timid and reserved, receding from me, a perfect stranger
to her. It was natural. She had forgotten me during
my long absence.

"Come, little one, I said. Let papa kiss you and play
with your curls. We must not be strangers."

She came forward dubiously to receive my a£Eections.
For a long time we stood there the three of us, neither
of us speaking a word, our hearts too full for utterance.

It was getting late. The grandmother and the child
retired and Flo and I were alone, and then I told her
the strange story of my wanderings, and she told me
her brave struggle for existence.

"You should have had a letter or card of some kind
with you, Jim, to identify you."

"Yes, I should. I did that before I left Alaska."

I reached into my inner coat pocket and produced a
letter.

"This letter would have identified me should any mis-
fortune have happened to me this time. It would have
brought me to you, dead or alive."

I described to her my journey on foot across the
continent, the terrible privations of the desert, how I
laid down that night, utterly broken in body and spirit
thinking it to be my last night on earth. I told her of
the vision I had of her kneeling before the bed, hearing
her calling me by name.

"Yes, that was true what you saw. The baby and I
were in great distress. The larder was empty, we had
not a crust in the house. We went to bed without sup-
per that night, baby and I. Credit I had none to buy
on. I felt so lonesome and forsaken that night. People
began to look down on me, they called you a ne'er-do-
well, a vagabond and a deserter. They advised me to

DUAL PERSONALITY 149

gp to the poor-house, where they said provision was
made by the public for such cases of charity like mine.

''Jack Leach in particular, began to harass me with
his unwelcome attentions. He tried by all manner of
persuasions to seduce my love for you. He insisted you
had deserted me, that you had become weary of me and
my affections. This I stoutly denied, telling him such
conduct from you was impossible, and that something
must have happened to you ; that you were either dead
or that something equally as dreadful had happened.

''He had bought a large farm and he pleaded for me
to make my home with him and keep house for him,
stating that his mother was getting old and infirm and
entirely unfit to assume the burdens of a farmer's home.
I told him plainly it couldn't be and asked him to cease
his attentions. He saw I loathed him. He quarreled
with me and called me a vile name. I ordered him out
of the house^ and then he — "

She hesitated.

"And then," I answered, finishing her story, "he
assaulted you. You fought him. The blood ran down
over his face and he threw you against the stove. Am
I right, Flo?"

'Yes, but who told you ?"

'Yourself, dearest. Telepathy. It was the com-
munion of your own soul with mine, unconscious to
yourself, semi-conscious to mine. I saw all in one of
those wonderful visions I had. And I saw a young man
come in, and I saw him take him by the back of his
neck and turn him round. I saw him speak angrily
to him and then I saw them leave the house and walk
across the road, and there I saw him strike Leach down
twice."

"How wonderful, Jim! That was John Myers.
He came to my assistance and he gave Leach an unmerci-
ful beating, and ever since he has left me alone. John

I so STORIES OF THE OCCULT

Myers was the only real friend I had. He still had
faith in you and kept it unshaken all these years. He
said it was for old friendship's sake that he befriended
me.

"He was here tonight," I said.

"How do you know?" she asked.

"I saw him through the window, Flo. And forgive
me, I thought you had proven unfaithful to me."

"Oh, no Jim! I would have remained faithful to
the end."

"I will never doubt you any more, Flo."

I told her of the vision I had that night while track-
ing the murderer, Brown ; how I saw Leach's bam bum
down ; how I saw him afterward in a room in the house
gazing at the wall ; how I saw the word "retribution"
written in large capital letters thereon ; how later on I
followed him up into the attic, how he tied a rope to
one of the rafters and hanged himself; how he vainly
tried to free himself in his efforts for breath; and how
I finally saw him hang limp and lifeless.

"Thank the Lord, Jim, that vision didn't come true,
it is too horrible. With all his evil nature, all he has
ever done against you and me, I would not wish his
sinful soul to meet his Maker as a self murderer. Your
vision must have been an imagination, a fantasm of the
brain."

"No, dearest, it was no fantasm of the brain, no
imagination. It was clairvoyance. I can distinguish
between the two. The one is a mental picture which
you can call up at will, the other is an eye picture that is
plain and distinct as though thrown upon a screen, and
reveals itself unbidden. Time will tell, the end of
Leach is not yet."

I told her of my fall down the subterranean cavity,
my unconscious state, the wonderful wealth we dis-
covered as a consequence to my fall; my miraculous re-

DUAL PERSONALITY 151

covery and the wonderful revelation to me of my past
forgotten self; how I heard her call my name; how my
memory began to clear and I recognized the name as
that of my own; how I gradually remembered all and
how impatient I became to fly to her and the baby.

She was seated on my lap with her head resting
against my shoulder, her eyes looking up lovingly into
mine, drinking in every word I uttered. She knew I
spoke the truth.

"How strange and wonderful it all is. My Jim!"
she repeated time and again, as she stroked my hair.
"And now you are safely back at last."

I showed her the certified check. She read the
amount of my wealth — our wealth — and gave an in-
credulous "My, all that amount?" and snuggled still
closer to me.

"And how is it that I find you so comfortable after
all your poverty?" I asked.

"The third winter I passed the district examination
and qualified as a public school teacher. Three terms
I taught, receiving thirty-five dollars per month. The
money I earned by teaching, together with the interest
I received on a legacy of three thousand dollars, left to
me by my old bachelor Uncle Louis, relieved me of all
necessary wants The second winter was the worst of
all. Both the baby and I were sick. We were reduced
to starvation and no money to pay for the doctor or
medicine. John Myers came to my assistance. He
loaned me fifty dollars."

"Bless him for that, I will return it to him tomor-
row, with compound interest."

"It is all paid in full, Jim."

"It makes no difference, Flo, I shall repay it again."

"After I got well," she continued, "I went out and
performed such menial work as the neighbors offered —
washing, ironing and scrubbing, and occasionally sew-

15a STORIES OF THE OCCULT

ing at home in the evening."

"Did you go out to scrub, Flo?"

"I had to Jim. I did it cheerfully, for the sake of
the baby."

"Brave little woman," I said. She became dearer to
me than ever.

CHAPTER XX

r\ URING my long homeward journey I had scru-
^^ pulously worked out a plan concerning my future
dealings with Leach. The farm and stock which Flo
told me he had bought I considered as rightfully be-
longing to me. His wealth was the fruits of the sweat
of my own brow, and represented several years of toil,
mental concentration, and many sleepless nights. I was
therefore, determined that he should not be permitted
to revel in his ill-gotten gains at my expense, if I
could prevent it. I had planned to undo him.

The following day I accordingly paid a visit to my
friend, John Myers. I found him at home. He failed
to recognize me in my disguise.

"Mr. Myers, I presume."

"Yes, sir," he answered, surveying me critically
from head to foot.

"Mr. Myers, I came to talk to you about Jim Har-
per and Jack Leach."

"You must excuse me, I do not wish to discuss my
neighbors with strangers. Why not see Jack Leach
personally? He will no doubt tell you all about him-
self he wishes the public to know. As for Jim Harper,
I know nothing. He disappeared seven years ago and
no one has ever heard of him since, not even his wife
to my knowledge. Why not sec her?"

"Jim Harper has returned, and that is why I am
here," I said, removing my disguise.

"Jim !" he exclaimed grasping my hand. "How glad
I am to see you! I thought of you this morning."

"They say, 'When you think of Satan, his imp is s\ire
to follow,' " I said, himiorously.

153

1 54 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

"And the same practical joker."

"I could not resist the temptation. I played the
same joke on my wife last night."

"What a surprise it must have been to her."

"It was. She could not realize, when I discovered
myself to her."

I had to tell him all about myself. Then:

"Now will you discuss Leach with me?"

"Cheerfully," he answered.

"You know why I left seven years ago."

"Yes, your wife told me all about it, afterward."

"I wasn't sure of my own actions, coming in con-
tact with him every day. I feared I might commit an
act that would work me irreparable harm. I therefore,
determined to leave and avoid him. I have returned
a wealthy man, and with that wealth and the influence
it will give me I mean to undo him. I will do it slowly
but surely. I will make him the pariah of the com-
munity, despised and ostracised by all just and well
meaning people."

"I think you will not have much trouble. He is on
the downward way now. He drinks heavily and deals
wildly in stocks, two factors, each one of which will
eventually ruin him."

"I will help the good cause along. The sooner it is
accomplished the better," I replied.

Myers told me of Leach's nightly carousals at the
hotel in company with a crowd of parasites, spending
money and drinking whisky freely. The following
Saturday night there was to be a ball, when there
would be a great gathering. I decided to be there
and start one of my own. I cautioned Myers to keep
everything secret and not tell anyone of my return
home. I readjusted my disguise and returned home.
It was a Wednesday. Three days more I would wear
my disguise, and then on Saturday night I would re-

DUAL PERSONALITY 1 55

veal myself to the complete discomfiture of Leach. In
the meantime I would keep in hiding, having already
cautioned my wife and her mother and my child not to
mention my name to anyone. Should anyone ask con-
cerning me, I was to pose as a cousin.

Saturday night came. My wife begged me not to go.

"Don't worry about me," I said.

I assured her I was fully able to take care of myself
and would keep out of a row.

"All I desire to do is to uncover myself to Leach and
let him know that his nemesis is following him."

I arrived at the hotel rather late, about ten o'clock.
I had especially selected this hour so as to arrive when
everything would be in "full blast." I entered the bar-
room, the whole building throbbing and quaking in
rhythm to the motion of the dancers above. The long
bar, across which there was a steady stream of liquor
being dispensed, was lined up from one end to the other
with drinkers.

I cast a quick glance along its length until I rec-
ognized Leach at the far end, surrounded by a crowd
of hangers-on, the roustabouts of the village. Leach
had just ordered the rounds and was in the act of pay-
ing when one of his friends slapped him on the shoulder
and remarked in a jest:

"I hope, Leach, we'll all have an opportunity before
long of drinking a toast to your wedding."

"When he marries the grass-widow," another said.

"She is too much of a wild-cat, she fights like a
tigress. How about that. Leach?" a third said.

These remarks touched Leach on a sore spot.

"Cut that out, boys," Leach said angrily. "I'll not
brook it. Give us another drink, and be lively about
it," he said, addressing the bartender.

I saw Myers quietly seated in a chair in a far comer
of the room, as was prearranged. He appeared not to

156 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

notice me as I walked up to him, an apparent straqger.

Everyone eyed me critically, except Leach and his
crowd, who had thus far failed to notice me.

I addressed a few casual questions to Myers in order
to begin a Conversation during which I introduced my-
self as a cousin to Jim Harper. Several of the by-
standers hearing me introduce myself, one of them im-
mediately walked over and apprised Leach of the fact,
He was in the act of drinking a glass of beer. I had
purposely spoken loud so as to be overheard. It pro-
duced the desired effect. Leach immediately set down
his glass, half emptied and gave a hurried glance in my
direction. I appeared not to notice him. The news
embarrassed him.

Within a few minutes' time I became the target for
everyone's eyes. They eyed me like an escaped wild
animal from some menagerie. I kept on talking to
Meyers, apparently totally oblivious of their close
scrutiny.

I now deemed it time to put my little plan for the
evening into action — that of introducing my real self to
the crowd. I slowly rose out of my chair, and in a
voice audible to everyone in the room, invited everyone
to have a drink on me. It met with a ready response,
each one being immediately eager to accommodate the
"well met" stranger. Meyers and I edged ourselves
close to Leach, seemingly by accident.

I raised my right hand and begged their attention for
a few moments.

"Boys, I am a perfect stranger here. I came here
with the object of visiting a staunch old chum and
cousin of mine. I was shocked, on my arrival, to hear
of his strange disappearance nearly seven years ago.
Whether he is still in the land of the living no one here
seems to know, no one having heard from him in all
these seven years. Now boys, in remembrance of the

DUAL PERSONALITY 1 57

happy years he and I spent together, our close comrade-
ship, our little ups and downs, our joys and sorrows, I
propose a toast — ^you no doubt all know whom I
mean — to the memory of Jim Harper."

Everyone immediately raised his glass, with the ex-
ception of Leach.

"I will not drink that toast, may I strangle in the act
if I do so," Leach shouted so everyone could hear him.

"I beg pardon, boys, but I was unaware of the fact
that Jim had any enemies .In one of his last letters
to me he wrote of the many friends and the good will
of all the people he had won. Would you mind telling
me your name?" I addressed myself to Leach.

"Certainly not. My name is Leach, Jack Leach."

"It is very strange. You are the very person he men-
tioned as being one of his most sincere and confidential
friends. A man of sterling qualities, a man of influ-
ence, one who was the embodiment of honesty. I re-
member in connection with your name, he made men-
tion in the same letter of an invention, a little model of
a machine, he had perfected after years of toil. This
letter must have been written shortly before he disap-
peared. It appears inconceivable that such an enmity
should have sprung up between you and him as to make
it impossible for you to drink a toast to his memory. I
do not wish to appear as trying to pry into your secret
affairs, Mr. Leach, but you must pardon me for being
just the least bit curious to know what the disagreement
was."

"That is not for me to say. Mrs. Harper will no
doubt be very obliging to tell you should you ask her.
She was prompt to tell everyone else. It is all a fable,
a concoction of her and her husband's minds. I have
no more use for Jim Harper nor anyone else of his
kindred."

"I am a Harper too, Mr. Leach. You surely would

I s8 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

not visit your anger upon me for something Jim might
have done."

"I will make an exception in your case."

"Would you drink a toast to me, to my memory?"
I asked.

"Yes, ril drink a toast to you," Leach said.

"Give him another glass of beer, bartender. The one
he has is flat."

Leach drank it, a little sullenly I thought.

"Thank you," I said. "I believe you are sincere, Mr.
Leach. It went down like oil. Mr. Leach you have
now drunk to the memory of — "

"Jim Harper!" Leach gasped, as I took off my wig
and false beard and threw them on the bar.

"In flesh and blood," I replied, with a dozen mean-
ings. "No doubt you had rather seen his ghost, it
wouldn't have been quite so tangible.

"The man whose confidence you betrayed seven years
ago, who left his home to avoid coming in daily contact
with you, fearing he might commit some irresponsible
act for which he would pay all his remaining days; —
the man who was lost, dead to the world for seven years
— has found himself alive once more and has returned."

Leach turned white as a sheet. The sudden revela-
tion I sprung on him, the stinging words I addressed to
him in presence of a barroom full of people, the majority
of whom despised him, sobered him completely. He
stood abashed like a little child, having not a word to
say in self defense.

"Boys, you have all seen that I have come back, and
you, Mr. Leach, remember you have toasted to the
memory of Jim Harper. Good-night."

I left the barroom for home, John Myers accom-
panying me.

"Jim, that was the best trick I ever saw pulled off.
Leach almost sank to the floor. He'll think he had

DUAL PERSONALITY 159

nightmare."

"He won't think it long. That was just the opening
of the game. From now on I'll be after him like the
blood-hound on a scent. I went there tonight for the
purpose of springing this surprise on him, not to see the
ball. That had no interest for me. There will be no
noise attached to his undoing, no shouting, no angry
words in argument. I'll work on his conscience, slowly,
quietly but effectively. He will be his own undoing.
His own conscience and his profligate habits will do it.
I will simply act as the man behind the puppets, watch-
ing the course of events and helping them along."

There was a beautiful mansion in the village for sale
which I bought. It was an aristocratic, quiet, peaceful
looking mansion, set well in from the road with a
spacious lawn in front and on the sides. It was built
of stone and had a wide veranda running along the
front and one side of it, with up-to-date stables in the
rear. This home I decided was necessary to my future
social standing. I also spoi;ted a pair of pure-bred bays.
These I drove every day, making it a special point to
pass Leach with them wherever I found opportunity.

People began to talk about me. I became popular
and influential, two things my money bought for me.
Those who used to look down upon me previously, now
saluted me with familiarity, and even took me into their
confidence and asked me for advice in a business sense.
To these I related my story, confidentially. I told them
of Leach's betrayal of my confidence, the reasons for
my leaving home and my seven years of absence. I
bought bank stocks and became a director in one of
them. I was now in a position to undermine Leach's
credit. The leaven began to work slowly but surely.
People ostracised and shunned him. Even his drinking
companions, some of them discarded him. He gradual-
ly found himself alone. He began to look downcast and

i6o STORIES OF THE OCCULT

worried. People began to lose interest in what he had
to say, excusing themselves one by one, under some pre-
text or another. He began to drink heavier and heavier,
trying to drown his sorrows in liquor, often times not
being sober for whole weeks.

The following summer in August, one night while I
was sitting on the porch with my family, who should
come in the gate but Leach. He was perfectly sober.
The light was shining through the window and I could
see by its reflection the havoc his evil ways had made on
him. His eyes were bleared and his face was bloated.
He looked the sheepish, abject coward that he was.

"Good evening," I said.

"Good evening, Mr. Harper."

I thought it strange, he had never addressed me as
Mr. Harper before.

He asked to see me privately.

I led him into the house into a private room. He cast
his eyes round and failed not to notice the peaceful,
comfortable appearance of my home.

I offered him the most comfortable chair in the room.

"Now Jack, what is it?"

"Jim," he said, in his old familiar way, "I plucked
up courage to come and ask you for a great favor, I
am in sore straits, financially. I have asked different
others but they plead disability to help me out.

"So I have come to you tonight, the last one I would
have thought of appealing to. If you deny me, I must
go under. I have a little mortgage on the farm and
they threaten to foreclose. A few thousand dollars
would enable me to weather it until spring and by that
time I would be in a position to fix up matters."

"Let the blow fall," I thought. I knew all about the
mortgage and had known it for several weeks. It
amounted to two-thirds the value of the farm.

"I have also come to ask your forgiveness for the

DUAL PERSONALITY i6i

great injury I have done you. Will you, Jim? FU go
down on my knees if you want me to."

"It is not necessary," I answered. "The hand you
have bitten has turned into a running sore. Why did
you wait until the hour of your extremity to ask my
forgiveness. It is rather a late hour to come to me. For
seven long years I and those dear to me suffered through
your treachery. Now, when the game is up, when you
have come to the end of your rope, you think by speak-
ing a few words of contrition our old familiar friend-
ship will be established. Leach, when you have atoned
to me and mine for the injury you have done me, then
come to me and I will give you my hand in friendship
once more and also the financial aid you have asked me
tonight. I am sorry, but I can do nothing for you.
Good night."

That ended my last interview with Leach. T'wo
weeks later the sheriff posted his hand-bills announcing
the public sale of Leach's farm.

"Leach's farm is to be sold by the sheriff and I intend
to buy it," I announced to my wife. "It is the best farm
in this vicinity and to be the owner of it will enhance
our social standing — ^we'U be more aristocratic. Be-
sides, it will be but buying back our own property. It
should have belonged to us in the first place, since it
was bought with our money."

CHAPTER XXI

np HE sale came off at the stipulated date. It was
finally knocked off to me for four thousand dollars
less than what Leach had paid for it. If Leach's looks
could have killed, I would have died on the spot as the
name of the purchaser — that of my own — ^was announc-
ed by the auctioneer. His farm stock was to be sold a
few weeks later to satisfy the rest of the creditors.

That night I found myself still awake in bed at a
late hour pondering over the different events that
brought about the downfall of Leach, and the part I
had played in it.

My room, the window of which was facing Leach's
farm — now mine — was suddenly lit up. I watched it
for sometime as it increased, partly died out, and then
shortly lit up brighter than ever. What could it mean.
I jumped out of bed and looked out. The whole heavens
were red. It reminded me of those "lights" I had seen
so often in that far northern country. There was a
small patch of woods intervening between my home and
the farm, which shut off the view, especially during the
summer when the trees were thick with leaves. The
farm was about three-quarter mile distant. I could
plainly see the sparks and the thick, heavy smoke as they
rose over the tree tops. I immediately woke my wife
and told her that our barn was on fire, and that I would
run over and assist in saving what we could.

It took me but a few minutes to dress and dash
across the fields to the scene of action. And action
there was, plenty of it. It appeared as though the
whole village had turned out, great and small, old and
young, forming themselves into a bucket-brigade fire

162

DUAL PERSONALITY 163

department. With the stamping of the horses, the bel-
lowing of cattle, the squealing of pigs, the shouting of
some of the men here and there, giving orders, it was a
strange and weird sight.

I was sizing up the situation with the intention of
offering my services where they were most needed, when
I saw John Myers come running out of one of the
stables, his clothes on fire. The nearest ones rushed to
his assistance, trying to put out the fire with their hands,
even some with buckets full of water setting them down
and assisting the rest with their hands. I had been
standing at a distance; I pushed through the crowd,
seized one of the filled buckets and dashed the con-
tents over Myers.

"Thank you, Jim," Myers said looking up and notic-
ing me for the first time.

His mind instantly reverted to the helpless animals
in the stable.

"There are three more in there, can't some one assist
me in getting them out ?"

"FU help you, John," I offered.

"No, not you, Jim, let some one else help. It is
dangerous work."

"That is just the kind of work I want. Lead the
way," I replied.

For a moment I almost regretted having offered my
assitance in liberating the remaining animals. The
heat was so great it scorched us, while the smoke nearly
suffocated us. However, I determined where Myers
led I would follow.

"Hurry up," Myers shouted back as he led the way
through the heat and smoke. "FU untie them and
you'll help me to drive them out. Cattle are awkward
things to handle in a fire."

The cattle were tied to their mangers with chains,
and Myers found it not such an easy thing to untie

i64 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

them, with the chains pulled taut in the vain efforts
they made to free themselves. Two of them he had
managed to untie, but the third and last one gave him
considerable trouble. It was a full grown steer and
was not so easy to pull up to the manger as the others
were.

"Hurry Jim, get behind this one and put your weight
against him.''

The fire had by this time almost surrounded us and
was beginning to hem us in.

"For God's sake let's hurry and get out of this, I am
almost suffocated," I gasped.

The cattle, now being free, resisted our efforts to
drive them out of the stable, being spell-bound by the
fear of danger.

"Can't someone out there help us to get these cattle
out?" Myers shouted. "We'll have to leave them to
their fate if we don't get them out in a jiffy."

Two young fellows came running in at this sum-
mons, their bravery being stimulated by the whisky
they had drunk, one of them being so drunk he Was
hardly able to stagger along.

"You are a fit subject to come in here, you are,"
Myers rebuked him as the fellow fell against one of
the steers.

"What you call us in here for then, if you didn't
want us. Guess I can take care of m5^elf," he snarled
back.

"It takes a sober man in a place like this, we have no
time to waste on drunken fools like you," Myers hotly
retorted.

By yelling and shouting, and shoving and twisting
their tails we at last got them safely out, the whole
business having consumed less time than it takes to tell
it.

I was thankful it was over, my hands and face being

DUAL PERSONALITY 165

almost blistered by the heat.

"Three cheers for Myers and Harper some fellow,
who was also three sheets in the w*ind, shouted as we
issued out of the stable, my hair singed and my lungs
gasping for fresh air.

While Myers and I had been getting out the re-
maining cattle, the rest of the crowd had been making
frantic efforts to liberate the horses. Myers and I had
not come out of the stable a moment too soon.

The fire had started in the mow, in that part right
above the cattle's quarters and had gradually eaten its
way down. Just as we issued out of the stable, several
of the heavy joists came down with a crash, throwing
out sparks and clouds of smoke and heat to such an ex-
tent as to scatter the crowd in all directions.

I walked over to where they were getting out the
horses. I spied Leach, standing somewhat back of the
crowd, out of the heat and danger, with a heavy scowl
on his bloated face. Just as I came up one of the men
came running out of the stable and asked for Leach.
Someone pointed him out to him. Hurrying up to him
he asked:

"Jack, couldn't you come in and help us to get that
big, bay mare out? She is too vicious, and won't let
any of us come near. You can do with her more than
any of us because she knows you."

He half turned fiercely upon the man. However, he
had sense enough under the circumstances to keep his
counsel. He stood there undecided. If only the heat
and the danger hadn't been so great. His aged mother
was standing beside him.

"Why don't you go and assist the men. Jack? They
are doing all they can for you. Don't let the poor beast
bum alive."

He turned upon his mother fiercely, taking a rude
hold upon her arm.

i66 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

"You better go into the house where you belong. This
Is no place for old women to interfere in men's affairs.
Let the old hag bum if she hasn't sense enough to come
out. My life is worth more to me than what she is."

The old lady turned quietly as though to walk away,
when she saw Myers in the crowd, wiping the perspira-
tion from his forehead.

She walked up to him.

"Mr. Myers, can't you save her? She and I were
such good friends. She was always so faithful."

"I don't know, Mrs. Leach. I can try, if she lets
me come near to her."

I had been listening to everything going on. I came
forward and again offered my assistance. I was a great
admirer of Myers, both as to his ph3rsique and his sterl-
ing qualities as a man. I had long ago found him to
be true, honest and courageous, and where he'd lead I
was ready to follow.

"Jim, this is dangerous business. The other end of
the barn is coming down now. See that?" as a loud
crash, accompanied with smoke, flying sparks and debris
announced the truth of Myers' words.

"I know, but lead on, — quick," I answered.

We hurriedly entered the stable. Everybody had
come out by this time on account of the heat and dan-
ger, leaving the mare to her fate.

The mare had broken loose by this time and stood
huddled up in the rear corner of the stable, shaking
with fear and terror. Myers took hold of the halter
and tried to lead her. She refused to budge.

"Jim, you take hold of the halter, while I get back
of her and urge her."

The mare was obdurate. She planted her fore feet
firmly, resisted all efforts and entreaties. We were
almost in despair in our ineffectual efforts for saving
the mare. The fierce heat and the danger of being

DUAL PERSONALITY 167

burned alive had become so great that it had become a
matter of saving ourselves, let alone that of saving the
mare. As a warning, a loud crackling noise was heard
in the feeding entry, announcing the approaching col-
lapse of that part of the barn. We both realized what
it meant to us. Myers shouted for me to run. We
were not a second too soon. One end of the heavy
beams came down, striking the mare on the hip. This-
accident, or fortune rather, served the exact purpose
which we had in vain tried to effect. The mare, driven
to distraction in her terror, raised herself on her hind
legs, gave one mad plunge, and made for the doorway,
knocking me down as she rushed by me. The crowd
outside, saw her coming and made room for her,
catching her as she rushed through. Leach, now that
the danger was past, summoned enough courage to come
up to her and lead her away. After he had disposed
of the mare in a safe place, he returned to the crowd.
Myers, after receiving the profuse thanks of the old
lady, for saving the faithful animal, walked up to
Leach as he approached the crowd. Leach was just
about to offer his thanks and excuses for not entering
the stable himself, whereupon Myers, with a wave of
his hand cut him short.

"Leach," he began, "I never met as great a coward
in all my life as you are. I heard the answer you gave
your Mother when she implored you to save that faith-
ful old animal from the flames. I have taken an ac-
count of your actions tonight, ever since I am here.
Not a single live animal have you tried to save. Not
a single hair of your head to be singed, not a particle of
your precious skin to be blistered, have you offered in
an effort to save these dumb brutes from such a hor-
rible death. I wish to inform you that they are all
out and safe. As for the rest of your property, that
may bum, and you with it into the bargain for all I

i68 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

care. I am going home."

"Mr. Myers," I said, don't be too hasty. We should
try and save the house, which is in great danger of burn-
ing down. The eaves have already been on fire several
times."

"Let it burn," Myers answered hotly as he stalked
away. "Fve done all Tm going to do." He had for-
gotten for the time being that I had been the purchaser.

No one tried to persuade him any longer. They
knew him too well. No one blamed him for acting
thus. The greater part of the crowd had very little
sympathy for Leach. Everyone knew the circum-
stances through which Leach had been able to buy his
farm, now mine. Many had come out of love for ad-
venture and excitement, some had come with the inten-
tion of saving the live stock. Many of them, had they
followed their inclination, would have imitated Myers'
example. I felt sorry that such things were. I felt
sorry for Leach, because I looked upon him as a type
of moral degeneration, and was not altogether respon-
sible for all his actions. At the same time, why should
he care? It was not his property they were saving.

Leach was stung to the quick at the rebuke he receiv-
ed from John Myers. Had he received it in private,
he would not have minded so much; but in public, be-
fore all his neighbors and former friends — it aroused
bitter memlories of the past. He now, if ever, fully
realized the loss of his former prestige in the com-
munity. He left the crowd at the barn and started to
join that at the house. His fear of shame partly over-
came his cowardice. He now joined the ranks, fighting
the fire, trying to save the house. He was here and
there and everywhere giving commands, once in a while
thrusting himself in where there was the greatest
danger.

The big barn with all the adjacent buildings were

DUAL PERSONALITY 169

burned down leaving nothing but a mass of burning
cinders and debris. The house was saved. The crowd
had dispersed in the early hours of the morning, leaving
Leach and his mother to themselves. Leach was tired
out.

Some half dozen of us were left, long after the rest
of the crowd had gone. We were standing on the out-
skirts of the ruins discussing Leach, and the future prob-
abilities of his conduct, when someone asked where he
got to. Another answered he had gone into the house
nearly two hours ago. I proposed going in. I wanted
to see him very badly. The origin of the fire looked
very suspicious to me, and I wished to ask him' a few
questions.

We all passed into the house. We found his mother
alone in the dining room, wringing her hands and be-
wailing her sad fate. Her incoherent answers to our
questions gave us no clue to the whereabouts of her son.
We searched all through the ground floor without find-
ing a trace of him. We searched the second floor, his
own private room being the last one we entered. Here
v/e saw a huge rocking chair — exactly as I had seen
that night in my vision — drawn up to a small square
table, upon which stood a whisky bottle half full and an
empty glass alongside.

"We have still the attic to search," one of the others
remarked.

I had forgotten all about the attic, and as he men-
tioned it, the vision with all its horrible ending forced
itself terribly upon my mind. I secretly prayed that
this one vision might turn out an hallucination, a fan-
tasm of my brain.

Yet part of it had come true. That chair was the
identical one I had seen with my spiritual eyes, although
I was sure I had never seen it with my mlaterial ones.

I naturally felt a loathing sensation to proceed any

1 70 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

further. However, I said nothing and followed. And
there, before our gaze, suspended by a rope attached to
one of the rafters, hung the limp and lifeless body of
Jack Leach, his eyes bulging. and his tongue hanging
out, exactly as I had seen it that night when Bristow
and I were tracking his sister's murderer.

Stem RETRIBUTION, I muttered half aloud as
I turned to descend.

THE OCCULT HAND
I

^^nP HEN, Professor, you think it can be done?"

"I think so. I could not guarantee the re-
sult. So far ft is but a theory on my part. However,
It appears to trie all things are possible. You know
Christ told us of a time coming when greater miracles
than His would be performed. Why may not the time
be now as well as any other? Mind over matter is not
a theory any longer; it is a reality — a positive fact.
Man's actions are performed by the actions of two
great mental forces: the Objective and the Subjective.
The Objective mind is in control during your con-
scious or rational state ; the Subjective during your un-
conscious or irrational state. The Objective mind rea-
sons; the Subjective miind is incapable of reasoning."

"I don't quite understand, Professor."

"No? Well, rU try to explain. Did you ever have
a dream in which one of the characters changed its
form — say for instance some beast changed into human
form?"

"Certainly," I admitted, "I had one of that kind not
so very long ago."

"Well, your mind didn't reason that such a thing was
an utter impossibility, did it?"

"Why no. Professor, it did not. I've often wondered
why it was that we never think in our dreams that such
things couldn't be."

"Well, that is the Subjective mind. In a conscious
state such a thing would be an impossibility. Here is
this stick of wood in my hand. No amount of persua-

171

172 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

tion on my part would convince you that it was any-
thing different to what it is — a piece of wood — would
It?"

"I doubt if it would, Professor," I answered, con-
vinced that no one could fool me on a simple proposition
like that."

"Under hypnotic influence I can, though. At my
suggestion that piece of wood will become a red-hot
poker, and with it I can produce blisters on your body.
I have done it in cases. Don't get scared," as he noticed
the alarm in my face. "I shall not produce any on jrou
at any time. I am only telling you this to inform you
of what can be done. Of course, you would have to be
perfectly under my influence; subject to my will. That
would be an instance of mind over matter. All doubt
would be removed for the reason that your mind would
be incapable of reasoning otherwise. I could do the
same thing with you in a conscious state if I could re-
move all doubt, but there lies the difficulty. You might
try to believe ever so hard but still the doubt would
remain, and the efficacy of this piece of wood would
be nil so far as the application of heat would be. By
faith we can move mountains, and faith is belief. Under
my influence you will believe, because your Subjective
mind will not be able to reason differently. Do you
understand now?"

"I think I do. Professor."

"And now, after explaining the subject to you, do
you still wish me to try it? There will be no harm
resulting therefrom, I assure you, even if we should
be unsuccessful. It will be an experiment without
the slightest danger to you."

If you're sure of no harm to me, I'll let you try." .

1 am perfectly sure. You can set your mind at
perfect rest on tfiat score. You will be imder my
complete control, and any suggestions I will give you,

THE OCCULT HAND 173

either mentally or orally will take effect. I can dem-
onstrate to you later on by proofs better than I could
by talking a whole week to you," he concluded, as he
fixed his glittering, black eyes on me, much in the
manner of a snake when charming a bird.

The Professor was a tall, slim person, with black
hair, black, searching eyes that seemed to look clear
through you, dark complexion and clean cut features.
No matter when you met him, he was habitually well
dressed, whether in his office or out on the street, and
he always wore a button-hole bouquet which had the
effect of finishing off his genteel appearance. He had
the gift of being a ready and fluent talker on any
and all kinds of subjects, whether it was scientific
farming and fancy poultry raising, politics, or his own
particular brand of charlatanry — occultism. Yet with
all these gifts and perfection, he had that "Don't tread
on me; mind your own business" air about him that
caused people to be more or less averse to him. When-
ever anyone set an argument in opposition to his theory
he would confound them by citing a dozen different
authorities substantiating his line of reasoning, thus
putting a quietus on his adversary in the start, after
which he would continue to explain and instruct as
though he was the teacher and they the pupils; he the
fountain head and they the recipients.

To come back to my story. He certainly did demon-
strate to me after he got me into his power. Even
now, years since it has happened, his glittering, black
eyes haunt me, even in my sleep, producing a strange
and weird effect on me which it takes all my resolution
to dispel sometimes. Even his laugh was something
sardonic, accompanied by a sound, something between
a yelp and a hacking cough. IVe often wondered since,
what impelled me to give myself into the power of such
a fiend — for fiend he was, nothing more nor less.

1 74 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

Well, I left his office, promising to return the fol-
lowing evening to surrender myself to his will and
power.

The time of my visit to the Professor happened to be
in mid-winter. While being in consultation with him
it had started to snow, the pavement being already cov-
ered with light, fleecy flakes as I came out of his house.
The first thing I did was to take a fall, both feet shoot-
ing from under me before I had time to realize to be
careful on account of the slippery pavement, precipi-
tating me with the force of a catsuit on the stump
of my right arm, the extremity of which had been
lost two years before through an accident on the rail-
road, by getting it between two bumpers as they were
coming together. The Professor had made his ap-
pearance in town about three months previous to this
consultation and had immediately begun advertising
his occult powers and what he was able to perform
through them in the way of healing all kinds of incur-
able diseases, such as cancer, consumption, leprosy, — ^if
there'd be any in the vicinity, — ^and last but not least
those chronic complaints, — ^lame back and headache. He
soon had a lucrative business established. His office
became overrun with patients from far and near, espe-
cially with female patients. People became afflicted
with diseases they never knew they had. They also
found out that there were diseases that the medical pro-
fession were yet ignorant of. Often, in diagnosing a
patient's case, he would give it some hard-sounding
name, the patient forgetting it as soon as he had heard
it, yet which produced its effect by either giving the pa-
tient a very self-important air in way of possessing
something that was denied to others, or produced cer-
tain effects through mental suggestions.

One day I accidentally met him' on the street where-
upon he asked me concerning the loss of my hand* Wc

THE OCCULT HAND 175

had quite a little chat regarding the profession he pro-
fessed to follow, winding up with the promise on my
part to see him in his office, where we could talk the
matter over in private, as he called it. The talk he
gave me was so embellished and flowery ; it whetted my
appetite to such extent that I could hardly abide the
time set for the appointment.

Well, I sprawled unto my feet again, hugging my
sore and wounded stump all the way home, my mind
occupied with doubts, fear, hope, and the pain in my
arm. My wife was impatiently awaiting my return and
immediately began to shoot questions at me in rapid-
fire succession. She was not quite so gullible in believ-
ing all such "tommy-rot" as she styled it, warning me
at the same time to be cautious in surrendering myself
body and soul to that man. Her advice was like throw-
ing chaff into the wind. It blew in all directions save
in the one aimied at. I found out afterward, I was a
fool for not taking it. She knew more than I did, but
at the time, I thought I knewt it all. I told her I was
determined to brave the consequences. I paid the fiddler,
dragging her in as my banker. The two years following
were the meanest and most miserable of all my exist-
ence, past, present, and I doubt not, the future. The
tortures I suffered were worse than those of the Spanish
Inquisition.

So much for the preamble to the next two years of
my life.

T RANG the Professor's door bell — my second visit

to him. He opened the door in person. A more
affable person I never met in all my life than he was
as he smilingly, or rather grinningly bid me enter.

"Please take a seat and make yourself perfectly at
ease," he said as he turned up the light. "I have been
waiting for you, although I was a little dubious about
your coming on account of the storm we had," he con-
tinued, rubbing his hands together in a self-satisfied way,
no doubt enjoying the prospect of having me for a sub-
ject to practise his hellish designs on.

These little particulars I didn't notice so much at the
time they occurred, being as yet unsuspicious of their
meaning. But now, after I have been put through the
mill, I thoroughly understand their significance.

"Do you still wish to place yourself under my in-
fluence?" he asked, as though surprised at my consent,
and that all responsibility for any baneful effects were
to be placed to my account.

"Certainly, I'm here for that purpose, if you are cer-
tain there will be no harmful effects," I answered.

"Not in the least, not in the least, sir, I assure you.
Besides, it'll not cost you one penny. The results at-
tained will be of equal value to us both. You, if the
outcome will be successful, will be the possessor of a
new hand, whilst I will be the gainer of such scientific
knowledge as will startle the world. My name will go
down in history as a conjurer in occult science, and as
one of the greatest benefactors of the age; a name for
future scientists to ponder over. In view of your lack
of knowledge on the subject, a knowledge that few

176

THE OCCULT HAND 177

people possess or understand, you can not realize the
importance of such a discovery. I do. It will rev-
olutionize the art of healing. It will be equal
to raising the dead to life. Think of the boon to hu-
manity: the maimed, the halt, the blind; thousands of
instances whereby poor wretches could be brought out
of their despondency into a realization of happy lives."

He continued to talk in such glowing and flowery
terms that all doubts and fears, whatever remained,
were dispelled. I was spell-bound. To think that I
was the first one to come under the benediction, my
name going down in history side by side with the Pro-
fessor's tickled my vanity not a little. If but my wife
could have heard him talk! What would she think
now? Of course, I didn't understand half of what he
said. He used so many technical and scientific terms
that much of his talk sounded like ancient Greek to me,
which he no doubt used to impress me with his supe-
rior knowledge.

"We might as well begin at once," he said," Are
you very positive?" he asked.

"Positive? Pardon me, I don't quite comprehend,"
I answered, ashamed of my ignorance.

"I mean are you set in your opinions: determined.
Have you a considerable will power?"

"Oh, certainly, certainly. Professor, I have a very
strong will," I answered as the full meaning of the
word dawned upon my stupid mind.

What other man would not have asserted the same
thing? What man would admit that every Tom,
Dick, or Harry could lead him around like a cow by
the halter?

"In that case," he answered, "I may have a little
trouble in putting you to sleep. After I once have
you, there will be no trouble afterward. Please take
that rocker and place yourself in the most comfort-

1 78 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

able position you can assume," pointing to a large
Morris-rocker that stood in a shadowy corner of the
room. **Now," continued the Professor, after I had
taken the chair, "please think of going to sleep and ex-
clude all other topics from your mind."

For about half an hour he tried his best to put me to
sleep, without avail. I suppose he summoned all the
different incantatory words and acts to his assistance he
could think of. Several times I peeped from under my
eye-lashes and each time I noticed that the perpetual
grin had entirely disappeared. In its place was a grim
determination on his face. It is hard to say who of us
two was the more tired, he or I. He finally gave up
in disgust and produced a hollow glass ball. This, he
explained, was an automatic magnetizer on which I was
to concentrate my thoughts thereby inducing sleep. This
also proved futile. I simply refused to go to sleep. I
suppose I was too positive. He didn't say. I know
I felt as though I had grown a foot in stature since he
first suggested the idea to me earlier in the evening. I
felt as though I had become a man in one night. As
it was getting late I bid him good-night, promising to
return the following evening to renew the experiment.
On my way home I stopped in at the tavern and drank
a bumper of whiskey, something I had not indulged in
for the last five or six years.

On account of not having tasted any liquors for such a
length of time, the whiskey soon produced a peculiar
effect on me. Not in the way of hilarity, as it does
on some people, nor surlily or dizzily. It made me
feel more conceited, more determined, as the Professor
defined it. It was the paramount subject on my mind.
Hitherto almost everybody had been able to sway my
opinion in an argument. From now on Td assert my
own opinion and stand by it like a man. And Fd be-
gin in my own home. I'd let my wife know that she

THE OCCULT HAND 179

had a man for a husband after all. To be sure Fd not
be rude to her, nor ill treat her in the least bit ; in fact,
Fd be more kind to her than ever before, if that were
possible. But Fd be more firm. I arrived home, and
the first thing I did to announce my presence was to
stamp the snow off my shoes vigorously. I don't think
she understood the meaning of its significance. I did.
I braced my shoulders, took a deep breath, threw out
my chest, and walked in. My wife was sitting at die
table sewing. On account of the lateness of the hour
she had begun to worry, fearing something might have
happened to me at the Professor's.

"Why John, how late you are ! It's going on twelve
o'clock. I thought you'd never come home."

"Have no fear for me, my dear," I answered bravely.
"Mary," — Mary was my wife's name, without any
prefixes or suffixes to embellish it. Just plain Mary.
"Mary, do you know what a positive man is?"

"Why yes, I think I do. But what a foolish question
to ask at twelve o'clock at night."

"Never mind the time; tell me what a positive man
is."

"A positive man is one who is half conceit, and half
fool ; one who is too stubborn to be convinced when he
is wrong."

This definition of the word, so different to the Pro-
fessor's partly knocked the conceit out of me. What-
ever else I might be, I was not going to pose as a fool. .
It exasperated me. I stepped over to the big rocker,
yanked it up to the stove and threw myself into it. We
both remained silent for about five minutes. Perhaps
it was well that wie did. It gave me time to cool off,
and also time to ponder over the proposition. My wife
was the first to break the silence.

"What made you ask such a question? Didn't you
know the meaning of it?"

i8o STORIES OF THE OCCULT

"Who, I? What a preposterous question to ask of
me. Certainly, I knew, but I w-anted to know whether
you knew."

As I sat by the hot stove, the heat from the outside,
and the heat from! the inside of me seemed to con-
centrate in my head and gave me a quarrelous disposi-
tion. I was determined not to give in so easily after
having formed my new resolution. I was tired and my
head began to feel heavy.

"Mary, you are wrong, — ^but take off my boots and
let's retire. It's getting late."

My wife looked at me in a quizzical way. She would
not understand.

"Why John, can't you take them off while I put
away my things ?"

"Mary, take off my boots," I said in a firm voice.

My wife came up to me in a hesitating, timid way.

"John, what has that Professor been putting into
your head? You have never acted like this before."

She smelled my breath and began to cry, walking
back to the table in a crestfallen w^y.

I could never bear to see a womlan cry, least of all
my wife. I succumbed completely, my new resolution
shattered like a vase. I removed my boots myself, be-
stowed a lot of endearing terms upon my wife, and bliss
once more reigned in our home.

Ill

TP HE following night found me once more in the
Professor's office encountering the same diabolical
grin on the Professor's face. After a few common pre-
liminaries he proceeded to business — ^that of putting me
to sleep. This timie he was more successful, although
not entirely so. After waking up I had a faint recollec-
tion of hearing talk, although what it was I could not
remember. I felt no noticeable effects after his partial
success. Probably he had refrained from exerting any
of his power on me as yet. The following night I was
there again. This time he had me fast and secure, and
from this time on my trouble began and stealthily in-
creased. I became subject to the most hellish and devil-
ish influences that a man can put himself under. Many
a time, when free from his influence and I was per-
mitted to act under my own free will, which I often
times was permitted to do, no doubt with the intention
of torturing me by showing me my folly, I resolved to
assert myself and break the spell by which he had bound
me body and soul, and never have anything to do with
him any more. Vain resolutions. I could no more
break loose from him than I could pull myself up by my
boot-straps. Such resolutions only lasted during such
intervals as he permitted. I was under his power I sup-
posed, when his mind was unoccupied by any other busi-
ness. Even when under his influence, I, all the time,
knew perfectly well what I was doing, yet I was en-
tirely helpless to control my actions, oftentimes doing
the most ridiculous things imaginable. Whenever the
spell was removed and I returned to my normal self, I
felt as though coming out of a dream, remembering all,

x8i

i82 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

perfectly. At night, I was as a rule, perfectly free and
my natural self. After I had been to see him involun-
tarily for five or six weeks, he told me it was not neces-
sary to come oftener than once or twice every two
weeks. I felt greatly relieved at this welcome news,
thinking I might possibly be able to break the hold he
had on me. He seemed to divine my thoughts and
answered :

"Don't worry on that account. I shall be able to
reach you at any time and place I desire."

About this time I felt a queer sensation in my arm
— the arm that was minus the hand — extending from
the shoulder down to the extremity. It was something
akin to a rheumatic pain when denoting a change of
weather. Sometimes it became so intense that it pre-
vented me from concentrating my mind on anything
else. I went to see the Professor one night, about it.
The consolation he gave me was :

"O, my dear, the leaven is working!" rubbing his
hands together, a fashion he had when expressing more
than ordinary satisfaction. "Be brave and take it all
philosophically. This is only the beginning. Think
of the benefits you'll derive and what it'll do for
science."

"To the devil with science," I thought. "If this is
but the beginning, wjiat'll be the end. My sufferings
were already enough to set me crazy."

I went home in a disconsolate state of mind. I made
up my mind Fd be free, and if I'd have to kill him. The
following day I met him on the street. He greeted me
very cordially, asked me how my arm felt, and gently
cautioned me not to harbor any designs on his life, and
passed on.

"My God," I thought to myself, "can I not even
think without that man reading my thoughts?"

I turned round, my eyes following him as he leisurely

THE CX:;CULT HAND 183

strolled aw^y. If I had had a pistol at the time, I
would have killed him. I wished it then, and as the
thought entered my mind, I thought I heard a faint
cackling laugh. I wasn't positive, although it served
to increase my ire against him.

Things continued to go on thus for several months
without any change in my condition, either mtentally,
morally, or physically. One day I happened to examine
my wrist more minutely than I had been wont to, and
w<as startled by its appearance where the hand had been
severed. I noticed a knotty, gnarled growth somewhat
similar to the out-growths on trees, the skin becoming
hard, and calloused, and chafed. I hardly know wheth-
er I was frightened or surprised at the appearance. I
immediately ran into the house to show it to my wife.

"What do you make of this, Mary?" I asked as I
showed her the stump.

"I don't know," she said, shaking her head. "When
did you first notice it?"

"A moment ago," I answered. "Perhaps we have
judged the Professor too harshly after all," I said as the
light dawned upon my mind. "That must account for
the pain I had in my arm. Til gp and show it to the
Professor tonight," I continued.

That night I showjed it to the Professor, who was
overjoyed to see the results of his occult power, as he
described it.

"It is extraordinary! extraordinary!" he exclaimed.

His black eyes fairly sparkled, and he almost must
have rubbed the palms of his hands through in his
delight.

"Ah, my friend, didn't I tell you, you required
patience? Will you believe in me now, after this
demonstration?"

"Yes, but the pain. Doctor. I can hardly bear it
any longer. It will set me crazy. I can't get any rest

i84 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

at night."

"O, bother the pain. You can't expect anything
for nothing. Forget it, think of something else."

That was invariably the answer I got whenever I
mentioned my sufferings. However, I was in the toils,
shackled, hand and foot, and I had to endure it whether
I would or no.

From now on the pain which I thought was severe,
became unendurable, oftentimes im|pelling me to walk
the floor at nights for hours at a time. My wife, like
myself, became almost distracted out of sympathy for
me. Sometimes I almost became raving, cursing the
Professor to the lowest depths of hell in my impotence.
At certain intervals the pain was not so severe, some-
times leaving me altogether. Had it been, I think I'd
have committed suicide and ended it all. It came on
at irregular intervals, no doubt whenever he was at
liberty to exert his mind in my direction. Whenever
the pain in my arm came on my mind appeared to be
free from' his influence and I was at liberty to act of
my own free will. Whenever my will came under his
influence, the pain in my arm ceased. Sometimes I
was completely unpossessed, mentally and physically.
Those times were like the sunshine through rifts in
the clouds. They made me long all the fiercer for the
liberty I had been robbed of. I could have been happy
at those times had it not been for the two-edged sword
that was hanging suspended over my head. The hours
I was perfectly free were about eight out of the
twenty-four. With all this pain I suffered, and my
obsession I took particular notice of the changes in my
arm from day to day, and noticed that the hand was
gradually increasing. The growths slowly developed
into five processes, corresponding to the five meta-can>al
bones.

/^ NE day the Professor must have decided to shift
^^^ the course of my actions on a new tack altogether.
At least they began to run in quite a different groove
altogether. Hitherto they had been erratic enough, but
from now on they began to assume the ludicrous. One
day I suddenly conceived the crazy idea of having some
fun, all to myself. The idea was no sooner conceived
than acted upon. I forthwith began running up and
down the street, shouting to every one I met, at the
top of my voice, "Make room, make room for the noble
Petronius," at the same time brandishing a club in a
threatening way over my head. My intention was not
to harm anyone, but merely to see them scamper. Need-
less to say, everyone ran for cover in double quick time,
the women and children especially, falling over each
other in their efforts to escape my supposed insanity. I
finally wound up in the little hardware store which
the town contained. The hardware merchant was at
the time busily engaged listening to the glib tongue of a
drununer w;ho was vainly trying to unload some of his
wares upon him — goods that he didn't want and which
he knew he was unable to sell in such a one horse town.
I listened to the embellished speech of the drummer
for a while when, pretending to get angry at the un-
fair advantage he was trying to get over the un-
sophisticated merchant, I walked up to him: and de-
manded in self righteous indignation:

"How dare you, sir, presume to have the audacity
to enter our peaceful village with your undesirable
wares, trying to foist them on one of our most honour-
able and successful businessmen?"

185

i86 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

There wasn't much said in consequence of my butting
in, on the part of the drummer. He was a pretty
husky guy and appeared to be able to take his own
part creditably under almost any circumstances. He
sized me up for about half-a-minute, the very picture of
patience, probably expecting an apology on my part.
The conciliatory spirit not showing on my part in
either my actions or words, he quietly slipped off his
coat and his hat, and laid them both carefully aside;
after this he took a decidedly threatening attitude from
which I suspected that he would do me up in
fine style. At this moment the merchant interposed
and apologized for my indiscreet words, indicating by
signs that I was not altogether responsible for what
I did, thereby saving me from a most deserving and
ignominious thrashing I immediately began to sober
up and resumed my normal condition. I hung my head
in shame and left the store, humiliated to such a de-
gree that I was unable to utter a word of thanks to
the merchant, or an apology to the drummer, but cursed
the Professor for bringing such disgrace upon me. I
straightway made a bee line for my own domicile where
my wife, who had already heard of my escapade, gave
me a thorough lecture, out of principle I suppose, she
knowing as well as I did that I was not responsible for
my actions.

Several days after this I chanced to pass one of the
neighbors' cows with a bell attached to her neck. Every
time she reached out for a blade of grass the bell would
give a harsh tingle. The more I listened to the music
of the bell, the more I became imjbued with the idea
of possessing one myself to carry out a certain idea
that immediately formed itself in my brain. After hav-
ing completed my purchases I immediately hastened
home to begin carrying out my plan. I remembered
having an old bell similar t6 the one I saw on the cow,

THE OCCULT HAND 187

stored away somewhere in the bam, although I could
not remember just where. I diligently began to ran-
sack every nook and comer and finally drew it out of
a cob-webby box that had been used as an old junkshop
for storing all kinds of odds and ends. I took a great
deal of delight in making my preparations, ever and
anon laughing aloud to myself as I anticipated the fun
I was going to have that night. I kept the matter a
secret, making my preparations in a quiet corner of the
bam, allowing not even so much as a tingle of the bell
to escape for fear my wife might hear and suspect.

There was a certain farmer living about half-a-mile
out of the village against whom I had conceived an
unfounded prejudice He was considered fairly well
of? by the neighbors, so far as wordly goods were con-
cerned, he considering himself the wealthiest man in
the community, a fact which he never failed to impress
on your memory whenever he had the opportunity.
Whether this was the cause of my prejudice I do not
know, but I know that I took a special delight in form-
ing the scheme to rub it in on him. Across the street,
and opposite to his house he had a large field planted
with corn which had grown to such a height as to com-
pletely hide a man walking through it. That night I
excused myself to my wife, explaining that I had some
little business matter to attend to, whereupon I went
out to the bam and got the bell and an oil coat to
protect myself from getting wet, it having rained that
day, after which I started out on my fool's escapade. I
cut across the fields so as to escape being noticed by
anybody. When I arrived at the place of operation it
was about half-past-nine. The night was pitch dark
and a fine drizzle was coming down which served my
purpose to perfection; which wias to give the farmer a
harmless, chilly bath. I crept up to the fence at the
edge of the com field opposite the house and found the

i88 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

occupants still up. I could see the old man in his rock-
ing chair, reading his paper and smoking his pipe. He
appeared to be very contented as he sat there in his chair
and I certainly envied him. I waited and watched for
about half-an-hour when I noticed the light to dis-
appear down-stairs and reappear shortly after on the
second story. Ten minutes later everything was in
darkness, by which fact I concluded everybody had
retired. I waited about fifteen minutes longer, when
I decided to begin operations.

At this moment I heard some one coming along
the road. This new factor facilitated my plan. I
sneaked back into the corn and waited until he was
opposite me when I gave a sudden bound in imitation
of an animal suddenly alarmed, at the same time
jingling the bell violently. Presently I heard him
call out to the old farmer:

"John, hello John! There's a cow in your corn-
field."

Presently I heard the window being raised and the
old farmer calling out: "What's the matter out
there?"

"There's a cow in your corn-field," the man an-
swered back.

"I guess there's too much corn inside o' you" the
old man retorted hotly, irritated at being called out of
his sleep.

To convince the old numbskull that the man in the
street knew what he was talking about, I gave the old
bell such a vigorous shaking, at the same time running
along the edge of the field parallel with the fence, that
there remained no more room for doubt or argument
in the old man's mind.

"Thunderation ! that's Hen Spade's old cow. I
know it by the jingle of that bell," he called down to
the man below.

THE OCCULT HAND 189

Immediately I heard the window come down with a
bang, followed by the clatter of broken glass on the
paved path below. I could have roared with happiness
at this result, had I dared. About five minutes later
I saw him come out in his pajamas, carrying a lantern.

"ril fix her for him," he continued to the man.
"What business have people to leave their cattle out on
the street at this hour of the night, breaking through
other people's fences?"

I heard him ask the fellow to help get the "D — d
cow" out The man declined politely, on the plea of
it being too wet a night to run around in a corn-
field. The old man was therefore compelled to tackle
the disagreeable job alone, an arrangement that suited
me perfectly. Him I could see, on account of having
a lantern, whereas the other fellow might accidentally
stumble upon me, thus exposing me, a thing which
I desired to avoid. Whether the Professor had any
control over fate so far as shielding me from exposure
was concerned, I do not know. Certain it is, I was al-
ways saved at the opportune moment.

I immediately raised the curtain for the second and
most important act in the drama, by giving a violent
shake of the head accompanied by a bellow, in imi-
tation of a real cow, jingling the bell with all my might,
and starting on a wild rampage between the rows of
corn with the old farmer in hot pursuit. I ran about
two hundred yards, when I stopped and turned to get
a view of the other end of the stage occupied by the
farmer. He must have been a pretty good runner,
judging by the scant distance I was ahead of him:
about twenty-five yards. I held the old bell muffled,
ran ahead about a hundred yards more, crossed six or
seven rows, then I began the race once more by run-
ning obliquely across the rows, jingling the bell for all
I was worth and doing all the damage to the com I

190 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

possibly could. The old Nick must have had posses-
sion of me. I felt as though I would have liked to ruin
that whole corn-field. I knew it was wrong for me to
worry an old man like that, yet I could no more re-
frain from doing it than a duck can escape a pond of
water. The old man was in hot pursuit, although at
a safer distance. I could see the rays of his lantern
through the corn. Once I saw him fall. His foot
must have become entangled in the broken corn-stalks.
I saw the lantern drop out of his hand and roll along
the ground. He slowly got up and I could plainly
hear him go through the whole gamut of curse words.
I could have danced with joy had not a faint streak
of my conscience or will asserted itself. Instead of giv-
ing vent to my hilarity I was moved to sincere com-
passion for the old man, who must have been wet to
the skin by this time, as the corn was very wet and a
heavy drizzle was still coming down.

At this time the Professor must have withdrawn his
influence, leaving me free to the guidance of my own
will. I began to realize more and more how wrong it
was to play a joke of this kind on an inoffensive old man
like the farmer, a man who had never done me the
least injury. I began to feel very mean about it and was
half prompted to confront the farmter and confess all
and try and make amends for my misdeeds the best way
I could. Since I was not responsible for my actions, I
finally decided to keep the secret and discontinue my
depredations for that time. I therefore beat a hasty
retreat for home and my beloved Mary. I could not
desist from giving the bell another vigorous shake
in way of emphasizing to the old man that the cow was
still in evidence, after which I made for the fence at
the other extremity of the field, leaving the old farmer
to deal with the imaginary cow as he thought best.

1^^ Y wife was in bed and sound asleep when I arriv-
ed homte. I crept into bed with as little disturb-
ance as possible, for fear I should awaken her and be-
come subject to a whole lot of undesirable questions
from her. I felt something akin to a trusted old dog
returning from a sheep-marauding expedition. I soon
fell asleep, never waking up until the next morning.
This wtas one of the few restful nights I had had ever
since the Professor had taken me in his hand. Whether
my wife knew of my late return I did not know. It
was not mentioned when we rose in the morning, al-
though she gave m)e several mistrustful looks. After
breakfast she had occasion to go dowin to the store for
a few articles. I noticed, the moment of her return,
that there was something more than ordinary in the
wind.

"John, where were you last night? — ^Where were
you ?" she demanded as I refused to answer.

A bright idea had entered my mind. "Now or never
is my time," I thought as the old, dominant idea of
positiveness entered my mind. Straightening m5rself
to my full height, I addressed her sternly:

"Mary, I would like to know by what right you
address me thus, your lawful lord and master. You
are becoming a little too positive for your sex. When
I mlarried you, you placed yourself in my keeping,
trusting me to protect and support you. You will
therefore deem it wise to obey me in the future instead
of trying to command me."

"When I married you I thought I had married a
man ; one who appreciated a good wife when he found

191

192 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

one, but I find I have yoked myself to an imbecile, an
idiot, a lunatic, one who didn't even have sense enough
to come in out of the wet."

This was too much for me. I inferred she meant my
escapade in the wet corn-field the night before.

"Enough Mary. Into the house with you at once
before my just wrath impels me to chastise your in-'
solence."

Without another word my wife started, with a down-
cast face, for the house, sobbing out her ^ef as she
went.

For a moment I stood there irresolute. I felt like a
whipped cur. My own sense of justice upbraided me
for the cowardly attitude I had assumjed toward her.
I had acted like a savage ; a brute. I slowly conquered
my false pride — my positive, stubborn determination
which I had harbored ever since my first visit to the
Professor. I began to realize what it might lead to
and it vanished like a wreath of smoke. She had con-
quered by her most powerful weapon : her tears. Had
she continued the way she had started out, by scolding
and upbraiding me, I never would have given in. But
who can resist a good woman's tears? I couldn't. I
followed her into the house and found her sitting in
the rocker, still weeping. I gently put my arm around
her and addressed her in the most soothing tones.

"Mary deiar," I said, "Please forgive me this once. I
know I acted like a coward. I shall never insult you
like that again. Won't you forgive me, dearest?" I
pleaded as I put my hand under her chin and lifted
her face, giving her a kiss.

The effect was magical. I was greeted with a radi-
ant smile through her tear-stained face; like the sun
breaking through the clouds. She appeared miore beau-
tiful to me than ever before. We had both won. She
had conquered my pride, and I her tears.

THE OCCULT HAND 193

"Mary, what do you know?" I asked her in the
gentlest words, giving her another kiss for good measure,
and also to win her extra good will.

"I don't know what you mean, Mary. What did
I do?" I asked, trying to throw her off the track by
pretending ignorance.

"Oh John, I know all. At least I think I do. By
what I saw yesterday and what I heard this morning,
I can put two and two together and the rest I can
guess."

"What did you see? What did you hear?" I asked
eagerly.

"I saw you fixing up that old bell out in the bam,
yesterday. This morning when I came down to the
store I heard old Mengle giving an account of the
event to the grocer. It's a shame, John. He said he
was wet to the skin from head to foot, and that he fell
and sprained his ankle. He is hardly able to walk and
has to use a cane. He threatens to sue Hen Spade,
claiming that it was his cow that caused all the mis-
chief."

At the word "mischief" the ludicrous side of my na-
ture again asserted itself. As I rehearsed in my mind
the events of the preceding night I could not control
myself any longer and gave vent to loud and uncon-
trollable laughter.

"John, I can't see how you can enjoy anything like
that," my wife reproved me with : "Can't you realize
that you have gotten another innocent man into
trouble? Oh, why don't you break loose from that
wicked man?"

"Would to God I could, Mary. But I can't," I
answered bitterly, suddenly brought back to a full reali-
zation of my iron-clad fetters.

"There is only one way I can think of to free my-
self, and that is — "

194 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

"How?" She asked searching my face for an an-
swer, as I hesitated.

"By killing him."

"Oh no, no, John, not that. Think of the great
crime that would be — and the consequences."

"Yes, I have thought it all out — crime, consequences,
and all — and it is the only solution I can arrive at, bar-
ring my disability to commit the crime, which I doubt
very much I could accomplish. Why, Mary, he has
such complete control over me that he even reads my
thoughts before they are fully conceived."

'Your thoughts? Why how can he do that?"
I don't know how he does it, but he does it all right.
Several weeks ago I passed him on the street and I was
thinking to myself: *How I would like to kill you,'
I turned around and found him looking after me. He
told me rd better not try any such game on him."

"Couldn't we move away from here, John? Out
of his sight and influence?"

"What good would that do? He could reach me
just as easily as he can here. No, Mary, I see no
hope of escaping him that way. We must hope for
something else to turn up."

T^ URING all this time my hand was gradually
^"^ developing, although it was far from symmetrical.
It was a monstrosity. I hated the sight of it. It had
neither correct size nor shape. It was much larger
than my other hand, and in shape it was something
similar to a flounder: broad, flat, and straight. The
fingers were long and thin, and entirely out of propor-
tion to the palm of the hand, without the least de-
velopment of nails at the extremities. It had an un-
natural, shiny appearance as though it was covered with
a coat of varnish. So far as usefulness was concerned,
it stood me in as much stead as a sixth finger on a hand
would. There was life in it, in fact too much, as I had
had demonstrated to me during many a sleepless night.
There was a slight circulation in it but I had no volun-
tary control over it. No matter how much I willed
there was no response. It was a handicap to me by
persistently getting in the way and continually stub-
bing against everything that came in its way, invariably
causing excruciating pain.

It served but one earthly use, and that was as a
curiosity to the inquisitive neighbors, whom I tried to
shun as much as I possibly could with but partial suc-
cess. I could not get rid of them altogether without
being decidedly rude, as they persisted in obtruding
themselves into my house without any invitations. I
became prominent on one jump and had lots of friends.
I never knew I had so many. Neighbors who seldom
looked at me, and never recognized or spoke to me, now
came and cheerfully accepted of my unwilling hospi-
tality. Each and everyone wanted to know the history

195

196 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

of the hand and have a look at it. I got so used to
rehearsing the story that I could repeat it and think of
something else.

"How strange!*' some said, after looking at it. "Do
tell!" others exclaimed. "The idea!" still others com-
mented, and all shaking and wagging their heads
wisely.

Most all congratulated me on the success of the ex-
periment without taking into consideration the demerits
of the case and the pain I endured, the sleepless nights
and the loss of my own free will. Some of the ladies,
usually the most inquisitive, after looking at it, would
turn away with a shudder remarking that it looked
horrible and that they couldn't bear the sight of it.

I remember one young lady especially, who remarked
that she didn't think it very remarkable after all, and
had she known before what she knew now, she
"wouldn't a'bothered comin' in to see it." This ex-
pression slightly increased the temperature under my
collar, and I could not help from expressing myself
somewhat freely and rudely.

"Young lady," I said — she was about thirty — , "I
am very sorry you wasted any of your valuable time
under my roof in such an idle quest. Furthermore,
you will please remember that I have not asked any-
one to look at my hand which I greatly prefer to hide
from the prying eyes of idle curiosity seekers."

Needless to say, she immediately asked for her hat
and wraps and never darkened my door again. I es-
corted her to the door and bid her a hearty good-night,
she responded with a haughty shrug of her angular
shoulders. I was well rid of her together with some
others who overheard my rebuke. It made no differ-
ence to me; I was fast losing my patience. To have
people obtrude themselves into my house and to be
insulted by them on top of it was more than I could

THE OCCULT HAND 197

or would stand for.

I was getting sick and tired of it all, and often wish-
ed Mary and myself on some lonely island in mid-ocean,
free from my pretending friends, and with my liberty
restored. My wife and I were on the best of terms
again. Now and then I became possessed with a bit
of positiveness as I called it then; I have since dis-
covered that it was nothing more nor less than a
streak of stubbomess instilled into me by the Professor.
However my wife knew how to handle me by this time.
Whenever I got my spell, she went into one of her
tearful fits. I suspect it was put on for effect some-
times. Be that as it may; I am not sure that I can
prove it. I never could bear to see Mary in tears and
invariably yielded, becoming as gentle and forbearing
as an affectionate husband should be.

VII

I^^Y hand now being fully developed, I was relieved
of that acute pain from which I had sufiEered so
long, but mientally, I was shackled more firmly than
ever before. It seemed as though my least actions were
subject to his will. Not a moment that I could call my
own. Oftentimes when conversing with my friends
on some topic, I would unexpectedly, without any cause
whatever, veer off unto another subject entirely irre-
levant to the one under discussion. This always placed
me in a very embarrassing position, the more so be-
cause I was fully cognizant of what I was doing with-
out being able to prevent myself from acting thus. My
friends, at first, gave me a knowing smile, leaving me
with the excuse of other important and pressing busi-
ness. Finally they tabooed me altogetlwr. I didn't
blame them. No sensible person enjoys a conversation
with a lunatic. I gradually, but surely, became still
more erratic in' my actions and in my speech.

Nor was this the sum of my afflictions. I have said
that the acute pain had ceased. So it had, but it now
gave place to an irritating sensation which in some re-
spects was almost as bad as the former pain. It was
something between a tickling and a scratching sensation
that served as a continual reminder to me; just enough
to barely allow me to sleep and to bring me back to a
full reaJization of my deplorable condition the first
thing after waking^ in the mjorning. That condition
gradually became worse a^ time slowly wore on. If
I ever cursed anyone, I cursed that Professor, not once,
but a thousand times. I went mad, mad in the fullest
sense of the word. I lost all control. My wife was the

198

THE OCCULT HAND 199

only one who could do anything with me, and that
didn't count for much.

That positive spirit the Professor had instilled into
me was about to react upon himself. He had over-
reached himself. Nothing on this side eternity would
stop me from accomplishing the purpose I had resolved
upon. I would kill him without warning if I could
muster sufficient will power of my own to overcomte his
influence, and thus send him to where he had kept me
bound for the last two years. I kept my resolution a
secret from my wife.

I had a thirty-two caliber revolver hidden in one of
the bureau drawers, and with this instrument I deter-
mined to free myself if possible. I sneaked upstairs
while my wife was preparing the noon day meal. The
revolver was not to be found at its accustomed place,
my wife no doubt having hid it on account of my mental
derangement, not deeniing it safe for mje to have it.
For a moment that stubborn, determined spirit almost
got the better of me. I was on the point of going
down and demand in peremptory tones the hiding place
of the weapon. That would have ruined everything
by putting my wife wise, even if not to the exact truth
as to what I wanted it for. I swallowed my anger,
although it choked me not a little to do so, and I con-
tinued to ransack every nook and comer wherever I
thought it might be. At last I found it hidden under
some old rags in a little niche of the wall up in the
attic. I don't think I ever discovered anything pre-
viously or since that gave me so much satisfaction as
the finding of that revolver did. It was loaded and in
excellent condition. I stuck it into my pocket and went
downstairs to eat my dinner before Td start out for the
enemy. Mary was unsuspicious. After dinner I ex-
cused myself, stating I was going to the store.

All that day and the preceding night I had felt

aoo STORIES OF THE OCCULT

norm^al, mentally and physically. My mind was clear
and the irritation in my hand had entirely ceased. I
felt like a regenerated man, the first time for a long,
long time. However, I wnas determined to carry out
my resolution, knowing well enough that my good for-
tune would last only temporarily — so long as the Pro-
fessor willed it. I Walked resolutely up to the Pro-
fessor's house and noticed that all the shutters were
partly closed with the exception of two on the second
story. The ones to his office were shut up tight. The
whole affair had a strange appearance to me, and I in-
stinctively felt as though something was wrong — that
my plans would miscarry.

I determined to find out, and that at once. I rang
the bell for all I was worth. It was a ratchet bell, and
I turned the knob back and forth until I heard some-
one approaching. It happened to be the servantgirl.
She opened the door just far enough to see who was
there.

"What is the matter?" she asked in an irritated tone
of voice. "It wasn't necessary to make an alarm like
that was it? We are not deaf."

"Pardon me, but I don't think you are the party in
supreme command here."

I was stung by her rebuke, although she had a perfect
right to call me down. But I certainly had taken de-
light in ringing that old bell. I could have rung it a
whole year, if only to disturb that scoundrel's peace of
mind, that the house contained. My intention was to
get him mad before I killed him. I hated to kill him
in cold blood and I thought that was a good way to get
him off his base.

"Where is the Professor?" I asked somewhat sharply.
"Is he home?"

"Yes he is home, but you can not see him today," the
girl answered.

THE OCCULT HAND aoi

"I must see him," I answered, "and at once."

"It's impossible. He is very sick and no one but the
nurse is allowed in the room."

"Is that so?" I exclaimed in mock alarm. "I hope
hell" — I checked myself just in time. I had almost
said, "I hope he'll die." "You don't need to mention
about my having been here, I'll come around tomorrow
to inquire about his health. By the way when did he
get sick?"

"Last night about seven o'clock. He got sick very
suddenly, accompanied by very severe pains. The doc-
tor thinks it is appendicitis and that an operation may
be necessary," she answered.

The time of his sickness struck me very forcibly.
That was the time I got relief. Up to that time his
mind must have been centered on me, now, I suppose,
he was occupied with himself. I left the house in a
happier frame of mind than when I approached it. I
would have liked to give that old door bell about fifty
more turns before I left. "If only he would never get
well," I kept wishing a thousand times on my way
home. Or, "if he would only die under the operation."
How I wished I could be the operating surgeon. Such
as these and others of the same charitable kind of
thoughts occupied my mind on my way home. My wife
noticed my joyful appearance the moment I arrived in
her presence.

"What's the matter, John ? I haven't seen you look
so happy iii the last two years."

"Oh joy, Mary! The Professor is sick — dying.
Isn't that a blessing?"

"Well, John, you ought to be ashamed of yourself
to be happy when someone is dying," she answered in
rebuke, more for the sake of conventionality than in ex-
pressing her real sentiments.

"My dear it's the first real good news I've heard

ao2 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

these last two years and I can't help but be happy over
it. Nor can you, Mary," I answered.

In answer she threw her arms about my neck and
gave me a kiss and walked away without saying a
word. She immediately came back, her womanly curi-
osity aroused.

"John, who told you this?" she asked with a doubt-
ful air.

"I was there and got it from the servant-girl," I
answered, after which I told her the whole story.
"You may put this away again," I said handing her the
revolver.' "I hope I may not need it."

"This was the hand of Providence, John. You
ought to give thanks for being prevented from commit-
ting such a crime."

"I know, Mary dear. I want to see how it turns
out first. He must die. There is no other alterna-
tive. I shall be very thankful if I don't have to bring
it about."

I could hardly wait until the following day, so im-
portant had the Professor's welfare become to me. I
started out for his house about ten o'clock the next
morning. I met several people on my way there, but
neither of them said anything to me beyond bidding me
the time of day. Everybody in the village, by this
time, took me for a lunatic and tried to avoid me. Per-
haps those I met that morning had not heard the news.
As I neared his house, a cheerful sight greeted my eyes :
The sign of death — a black crape — on the door. No
use to go any further. I turned round and hurried
home to tell Mary. I shall never forget how lightly I
trod the foot-path. Everything I looked at took on a
brighter color. I felt like a slave having the shackles
knocked off his ankles, and for the first time given his
freedom. I wasi a free man again in body and soul. I
whistled all the patriotic airs on my way home, from

THE OCCULT HAND 203

Yankee Doodle down ^o The Star Spangled Banner.
My wife was waiting for me at the gate. She was just
as impatient as I had been.

"Mary, it's all over; we'll both go to the funeral.
It's his death, and my resurrection."

Mary didn't express her real feeling in words. She
was too well bred. But talk about canaries and mock-
ing-birds. They weren't in it with her the remainder
of that day, so far as vocal music was concerned. Never
before, nor ever since, have I heard Mary, my wife,
sing, as she did that day after hearing of the death
of the Professor.

We both attended the funeral, and I dare say, if there
ever was a chief-mlourner at a funeral wiho felt like
throwing up his hat in the air for joy, it was I at the
Professor's.

The reason I call myself the chief-mourner is be-
cause in his death I lost a part of myself that gave mt
nothing but misery and mortification, and found re-
generation.

Words fail me to describe the freedom and happiness
I felt after the demise of the Professor. I was again
allowed to follow my occupation unhampered: that of
a painter. Work became a pleasure to me instead of
a drudgery, as it had been the last twio years.

It was about two months after the Professor's death
when I again began to notice a strange sensation in my
hand. It gradually began to lose life and took on a
strange, waxen hue in appearance, slowly becoming
scarred and shriveled. This strange appearance con-
tinued for several weeks after which timie the tips of
the fingers began to dry up com|pletely, becoming brown-
ish in color, something simlilar to the appearance of the
fingers on mununies that one sees in our museums. It
gave me no pain and therefore I didn't mind. In fact
I was rather glad of it. The hand never was of any

skh stories of the occult

earthly use to me outside of a curiosity to other people,
and of that I had had quite enough. This mortifying
process continued, gradully extending over the whole
hand back to the wrist.

Several times I was strongly tempted to take the
hatchet and with one blow detach it, but Mary always
persuaded me not to. At last I got rid of it in an un-
expected manner, and not without considerable pain
either. I was on my way to the store one day in quest
of some paint, when I happened to be beset by a strange
dog belonging to a new neighbor who had miade his
arrival into the village several days previously. In try-
ing to avoid the teeth of the canine I stumbled over a
stone that obstructed my way, and came unexpectedly
down on my decaying hand with such force that it
snapped off at the wrist. It began to bleed profusely
and the pain wias so intense that it nearly set me crazy.
It was almost as though someone shoved a red hot
iron through my arm. I hurriedly picked up the hand
and ran home where I promptly fainted from loss of
blood and the pain I suffered. When I came to, the
doctor was standing over me with a knowing smile on
his face, my hand bandaged and dressed up.

'How do you feel ?*' he asked me.

'Much better but wteak," I answered.

Before he left he asked me for the hand, stating that
he wanted to preserve it in alcohol.

"Yes, for love's sake, take it away and never let me
see it again," I answered.

"Mary," addressing my wife after the doctor had left,
"two years ago I made a fool of myself in not obeying
your wishes. To make sure of both of our future wel-
fare ril let you take the reins in hand again. All I ask
of you is a square deal for your John."

RESURRECTION

"Verily, verily, I say unto you, He that believeth on
me, the works that I do shall he do also; and greater
works than these shall he do; because I go unto my
Father." — St. John 14-12.

JOHN BRADFORD marked the verse, laid it on
the foot of the bed, and then for the next ten minutes
stared abstractedly into space. He neither saw nor
heard physically, but on his mental vision a great light
seemed to dawn.

"I wonder! I just wonder," he repeated to himself
over and over.

He looked up at the little alarm clock and noted the
time: — ten P. M. He hurriedly changed his slippers
for his shoes, grabbed his hat and ten minutes later rang
the bell of a noted eye specialist, a particular friend of
his.

The doctor came to the door himself, being un-
occupied at that hour of the night. He greeted him
with a cordial :

"Why, how are you, John ? Come right in."

He ushered him into his comfortable waiting room
and wistfully waited for his friend to speak. After
a few moments of perfect silence, as though it was the
most momentous question in the universe, Bradford
solemnly asked him:

"Doctor, people stricken blind through sickness —
scarlet fever for instance — ^what happens to the eye or
the optic nerve ? What organic change takes place ? Is
the nerve destroyed?"

20s

2o6 . STORIES OF THE OCCULT

"Hm-m ! Has your lady friend gone blind ?"

"No, I simply want to know out of idle curiosity."

"At ten o'clock at night ?"

"Yes, at one o'clock, if I desired to know and you
were still up."

The doctor pondered for a few moments :

"The sense of sight is excited by the action of light
on the retina. By this action a change is produced on
the optic nerve fibers, and is conveyed by these to the
brain, the result being a sensation of light or color.
Now, in a case of blindness caused, we will presume,
by scarlet-fever, no organic change takes place. Neither
the eye nor the optic nerve is destroyed, and in some
cases no one but a trained specialist would detect any-
thing the matter with the eye without the aid of
instruments. Blindness caused by a fever, I would
say, is like a scorching or burning of the optic nerve, a
paralysis due to the abnormally high temperature of the
patient. The nerve, physically, is not destroyed ; func-
tionally, it is, and therefore dead; and where total
blindness is the result can never be restored."

"What I can't understand is, why nature is unable
to restore what it has destroyed; when it has not
destroyed organically, but only functionally." John
answered.

"That I am unable to answer. Science may some
day be able to answer the question," the doctor an-
swered stroking his chin perplexedly.

"Science! Science is too materialistic; it does not
believe in anything else," Bradford answered warmly.

"Quite so. Science works through and by nature's
laws. Whatsoever it cannot test and prove by those
laws, it discards, rejects, and throws aside. How could
it otherwise when its object is to discover and teach the
truth. But to come back to the point : You must re-
member, in the present supposition the nerve celb, or

THE RESURRECTION 207

rather their usefulness is destroyed."

"Is that organic destruction?"

"No, but functional; in the case in point it amounts
to the same thing."

"And thereby doctor, you are begging the question
and contradicting what your profession is teaching every
day when it says that every act and every thought is
produced at the expense and destruction of cells which
are again renewed by new ones taking their place. Ac-
cording to your professional theory, total blindness is
irreparable. According to mine it is not, and under
certain conditions it may be restored."

"I know what you mean. But has any one of your
cult ever produced the goods?"

"Yes, One; and He taught the art to others, and
they also produced the goods, as you term it. He com-
manded His followers to *HeaI the sick, cleanse the
lepers, raise the dead,' all through faith. And my faith
is such, that it takes more than a professional theory
to shake it. But it is getting late," drawing out his
watch and noting the time. "I thank you for the in-
formation you have given me. I want to go home now
and — think."

The doctor ushered him to the door, and after bid-
ding each other good-night, John wended his way home-
ward thinking his professional friend narrowminded
and prejudiced. The doctor retreated into his wait-
ing-room, muttering under his breath concerning his
friend's dreams and superstitious theories.

"With his Hypnotism, his Spiritualism, and his
Christian Science — ^he can't talk on any other subject
any more. He'll go crazy some day, and I feel sorry
for him," he said, shaking his head wearily over his
friend's sad fate.

Arriving in his room, Bradford again put on his
slippers, took ofiE his collar, and after lighting his pipe

2o8 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

settled himself in his big, comfortable Morris chair
and once more stared into vacancy. Pipe after pipe he
refilled, and not until the sufibcating fumes in the
room started him to cough did he note the lateness of
the hour — three o'clock Sunday morning. He hur-
riedly raised the windows, undressed and went to bed.

/^ N his way to work in the morning, Bradford
^^^ passed by a small corner grocery inside of which and
behind the show window he had often noticed a little
child seated on som^ high box or stool, gazing listlessly
through the window into the street beyond. She never
seemed to take notice of him nor anything else, unless
it was the recognition of a passing footfall, the rattling
of a wagon over the cobble-stones, a trolley-car, or a
few words spoken by her elder sister who stood behind
the counter to serve customiers.

She appeared to him such a demure, forlorn-looking,
little child, with such pale, beautiful, classical features
as though cut out of marble. Her long, chestnut hair
was hanging loosely about her neck and shoulders.

Her appearance touched him, and he often felt as
though he would like to enter and hold her to his breast.
Her appearance prompted him to discover something
about her history; so one evening on his way home he
inquired of one of the little street urchins about her.

"Do you mean little Mary in the store?" the child
asked.

"Yes in the grocery store."

"Oh she can't see. She had a fever and went blind."

He thanked the child and continued on his way.

From that time on the fate of this little child was
uppermost in his mind. How he longed for power to
help her!

For many years he had been a student of Occult
Science in all its phases. He had not only been a
student but had also practised it — especially Hypnotism
— successfully, and thoroughly understood the power

209

2IO STORIES OF THE OCCULT

of the subjective mind over the body. He was a great
Bible student and loved to read about the miracles of
Christ, that greatest of all occultists.

"Were they miracles?" he oftentimes asked himself
the question. Christ never called them so. They were
the manifestations of a natural law thoroughly under-
stood by the Master; a law, the control and under-
standing of which was latent in every rational human
being if he but knew how to develop it; and most im-
perfectly understood by our sceptical scientists. Thus it
happened on that particular evening, while reading his
Bible he came across the verse :

"Verily, verily, I say unto you, he that bclicvcth on
me, the works that I do shall he do also; and greater
works than these shall he do; because I go imto my
Father." — St. John 14.12.

And this naturally brought to his mind the fate of
the little girl in that little grocery store.

Several questions relative to the child's blindness sug-
gested themselves to him which he was unable to answer
professionally. "Imbecile that I am," he rapped be-
tween his teeth as he jumped out of his chair to don his
street attire. Thus he came to visit his oculist friend.

One morning, soon after, as he passed the store, he
noticed that there were no customers in. He turned
back and entered.

The child was in her accustomied place, seated on the
box, looking more sad than ever, he thought. Her
sister was busy opening a box of oranges. As an ex-
cuse for entering, he bought a half dozen of them.

"How is your little sister this morning?" he asked
while producing the necessary change to pay for them.
"They tell me she is blind."

"Yes sir, she is totally blind," the girl answered.

"What wais the cause of her blindness?" he asked in
assiuned ignorance.

THE RESURRECTION 211

"It was caused by fever, sir, six years ago. The doc-
tor says die will never see. We had her to the eye hos-
pital where they told us the same thing."

"What does your father do?"

"Father died five years ago. That is the reason we
keep this store."

"How old is she now?"

"Eight years, sir."

While he was getting this information the child sat
motionless, patiently waiting for the rays of the sun to
light up her wan, little face, as she had been accustomed
to, morning after morning for years, drinking in his
healing rays.

Bradford watched her in silence for several minutes.
His heart went out to her as she sat there so forlorn,
so forsaken ; and again he felt that desire to take her in
his arms and express to her his great sympathy for her.
He walked over and gently placed his hand on her head.
She turned her face up toward his, her sightless eyes
meeting his, a faint smile on her lips.

"Little sister, wihat are you waiting for?"

"For the sun, sir," she said, turning her face toward
the east again.

"Did you ever see the sun, little sister?"

To be addressed as "little sist^" by this strange man
pleased her.

"I do not know, sir, but it shines so nice and warm
on my face — and it makes me feel better," she said, her
face lighting up at the pleasure she derived from the
interest he took in her.

It had been a threatening morning and vainly had
she been waiting for the sun to break through with his
warm rays.

"Some day you will again see it — that great, big
ball of fire in the sky — the same as your sister and I see
it when it shines," he told her.

212 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

How her sad, little face lit up as she listened to his
words, spoken in such a deep bass voice, so firmly and
so convincingly! To her they were the sweetest
message ever brought to her tais in all her sad, little
life, and which to her had seemed so long.

"Do you believe what I have said?" he asked.

How could she doubt? The message had been to
her as coming from some Guardian Spirit. Her very
innocence prompted her to believe.

"Yes," she answered, quietly but firmly, to his ques-
tion.

"If I tell you something, can you remember it? It
is very easy."

"I think so," she answered confidingly.

"Very good, my little friend," he said as he took her
seat and placed her on his lap. "Tonight, when you
go to bed, and after you have said your little prayer,
you repeat these words to yourself: 'I am going to
see; I am going to see.' Keep on saying them and
believing them until you fall asleep. This you do every
night and every morning, and during the day whenever
you think of it; and I also will do my part. Then
some morning you will wake up and see the sun and
all the other beautiful things you cannot now see — the
flowers, the birds, the trees — and your little heart will
be filled with joy."

At this moment there was a rift in the clouds, the
sun shining through with a bright, mellow light, his
rays lighting up the child's face whose cheeks were
flushed with a pale pink, under the excitement.

He gazed in rapture on the child's face. He had
never seen such a beautiful, radiantly happy face in all
his life. It appeared as though his words were blessed
with the benediction of Heaven.

'^How nice and warm it feels 1" she exclaimed.

"Yes, and it means a good sign for your happiness.

»»

THE RESURRECTION 213

Never before had he experienced such joy as he did
at that moment. He spontaneously clasped the child in
his arms and pressed a kiss on her lips. She put her
frail, little arms about his neck, tears of joy filling her
eyes as she clung to him with all her litde strength.
From that moment he was her knight, her hero — ^yea
her saviour, All doubts, if she had any, were dispelled
from that moment. How could she doubt after hear-
ing him speak such beautiful words — ^words for which
she had been yearning all her long, dreary years.

That night, after she had gone to bed, she hurriedly
recited the prayer she had been taught. She was im-
patient to offer one as her overflowing little heart dic-
tated. First she asked a blessing on her friend; this
kind, generous man who had told her such a wonderful
story of the joys she was to experience before so very
long — the joy of romping and jumping, and playing
with her little companions; the joy of beholding the
face of her sister and mother; the joy of beholding the
sun, the grass, the flowers, and the little birds in the
great light of day which had been blotted out of her
life, and which had dwarfed her body and soul.

Then she asked a blessing upon her own little self:
that this good man's words might come true, and that
the good Saviour would never forget his little friend in
her great darkness, after which she repeated those
words as she had been told.

Ill

Tn HAT evening, all by himself in his room, Brad-
ford consulted the Scripture. He searched throu^
the four gospels for passages favorable to increasing and
confirming his faith. When he came to the passage,
"Oh ye of little faith 1 if your faith were but like a mus-
tard seed," he inquired of himself whether his faith
measured up to the size of a mustard seed. He be-
lieved in his heart, it did. He was a staunch believer
in the Bible and its teachings; and in his theory of
mental healing he had unbounded confidence. While
in the hypnotic class he had seen demonstrations which
he could not have believed otherwise. Had he not
seen a cancer removed from the Professor's wife's
cheek? Had he not seen a man's hearing restored?
All through hypnotic suggestion. These were the facts
that confirmed his faith.

After ten o'clock, the time he thought necessary for
the child to be sound asleep, he retired and set his mind
to work. For one hour he concentrated his powerful
mind and will on his helpless little friend, projecting his
thoughts on her subjective mind, telepathically, forget-
ing everything else concerning himself and his immedi-
ate surroundings.

Night after night, week after week, he continued in
this practice. Several times he dropped into the store
to speak encouragingly to his little patient. He alwajrs
brought her joy. Her faith in her eventual recovery
was supreme and he was well satisfied. He cautioned
her and her sister not to mention it to anyone.

She told him of a wonderful dream she had had : in
which he appeared unto her; and that he took her by the

214

THE RESURRECTION 215

hand and led her into a beautiful valley with cool run-
ning water and singing birds; and that she became very
tired and laid down on the soft grass to rest; that he
covered her with his coat, after which she fdl into a
deep sleep. When she awoke everything had been
changed. Whereas before it had been darkness now
everywhere it was li^t — such a glorious light. The
birds — and, oh! they were such beautiful birds — ^were
flying from tree to tree giving expression to their joy
and freedom. Beautiful colored flowers nodded their
heads to her wjierever she went; the grass under her
feet felt soft as velvet; and above all this, high in the
sky, was that great, yellow ball of fire shining over all,
and kissing it with his wamn rays.

This dream represented to him a good omen and he
was determined, — ^yea with an angry stamp of the foot,
as it were, — he was determined to succeed. He knew
that his powerful, positive mind was getting control
over her subjective mind, and that, through his domi-
nating influence she would eventually see.

Spring came with its joyful proclamation. All nature
asserted itself; the ice and snow melted, the violets
bloomed, the trees shot forth their leaves, and the birds
began to mate and build their neists.

She still sat, every mbming, on her high stool ; not
with that forlorn, disconsolate expression on her face,
but wiith impatient expectancy waiting for his foot fall,
which she unerringly detected. So one morning as he
passed the door she tapped and beckoned himi to enter.
She sprang into his arms and told him the glad tidings —
that she could see him dimly. She could even tell the
bright spot in the sky from where the sun shone. There
was still a mist before her eyes, she explained, but she
could see his form if he stood in the light.

He was overjoyed. What would his oculist friend
think now? He ask«d her mother's permission to oomie

ai6 STORIES OF THE OCCULT

and see her that night. He hurried home and hastily
ate his dinner. He wias impatient to be with the little
girl. This night was to be the culmination of his efiEorts.
He knew he would succeed in restoring her eyesight.

After she had been put to bed, he went up into her
room alone. He held her thin, little hand in his and
told her stories out of the "Arabian Nights" of "Sinbad
the Sailor," and "Alladin and his Wonderful Lamp,"
until she became drowsy. He now exerted his hypnotic
powers over her until he had induced a sound sleep.

The crucial time had arrived. He concentrated the
entire power of his mind on the object to be attained.
Over and over he repeated suggestions to her, telling
her she would wake up with her eyesight restored. For
a long time he continued thus, beads of perspiration
standing out on his forehead. He became mentally
weary. He finally released her hand and went down-
stairs, telling them not to disturb her in the morning;
that she would wake about noon time. He went home
fully convinced that his work w^ accomplished.

The next morning he avoided the store by taking
another route. In the evening when he passed the store
the mother stood under the door. She asked him to
come in, and a moment after ushered him into the sitting
room. He heard the patter of little feet, and a moment
later she appeared, her whole body and soul expressive
of the great joy she felt.

He held her in his arms all that evening until late
in the night, she telling him of the great surprise in the
morning when she awoke and discovered she could see
plainly; he, telling her stories, caressing her and play-
ing with her hair.

The next day being Sunday, he took her out into the
park amongst the flowers, the birds, and the trees.

Thus the Spring, as in nature, had brought unto her
Resurrection and a new Life.

THE NEW YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY

REFERENCE DEPARTMENT

This book is under no cironmstanoes to be
taken from the Bnil«lin^

. /

i > l^i%

'* •■

l:t.h ^ '

— "^^Ifrf^

•2. , 2 (5,/$' njAt

-svw-

MAft I fl 1918

■■:iK

> ■ ■ I

iAR -3

1S!«

^ft

« \%\%

MAR • 1918

t^- ^ -^ <Wi

' . 'jV £ *

Jtitit c? g;/

'■£a ^6

^1*

l^.-H

1918

•' . ".'n A,> tt:jU/lAR — r^ftrf*

i: V -, V -' •r-tfft

i : # • < t ♦';

Jflli

form 410

1**fi — ?r^**

i»

FEFXT'ToTe'

Internet Archive Audio

Featured

Top

Images

Featured

Top

Software

Featured

Top

Texts

Featured

Top

Video

Featured

Top

Mobile Apps

Browser Extensions

Archive-It Subscription

Save Page Now

Full text of "Stories of the occult"

See other formats